


High Expectations

by HedwigsTalons



Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Brothers sticking together, Defiance, Depression, Gen, Grief, Military brothers, Olympics, Parental Expectations, Swimming, Wasp - Freeform, career choices, dreams and ideals, family comes first, military selection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:01:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 80,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24008518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HedwigsTalons/pseuds/HedwigsTalons
Summary: Jeff Tracy has very strong beliefs about what he expects from his sons and is a man used to getting his own way.  Sometimes his expectations are at odds with what is sons themselves want from life, especially Gordon.
Comments: 196
Kudos: 92





	1. Chapter 1

The office was tiny, barely large enough for the single desk it contained. It didn’t really matter. This room no longer had a permanent resident. State wide cuts to the careers service and an investment in online guidance meant that careers advisors were stretched across districts; a few lonely individuals doing the rounds of the high schools to dispense reassurance and wisdom in statutory ten minute blocks. As a consequence this area of the school hadn’t been refurbished in many years and had a general air of neglect. The carpet tiles had been worn bald in a clear path to the two chairs in the room, one in front of the desk and one behind. The painted cinderblock walls were covered in posters, bleached and faded by the California sun, bearing inspirational quotes. 

_You can do anything!_

_Be the change you want to see_

_Aim for the skies_

The posters mirrored the sentiments he had heard at home too many times. Although at home they tended to come tinged with disappointment as he handed over yet another report card that didn’t meet the standard set by the siblings who had gone before. Yale, Harvard and the Denver School of Advanced Technology had already accepted a Tracy. Gordon just couldn’t match up to their lofty heights of academic success. He was bright but that just got overshadowed by the glittering trio above him. Anything he did had always been done better by at least one, but more often all, of his older brothers. 

The pressure to achieve academic excellence had lessened slightly as his swimming training had ramped up in intensity. As competitions progressed from local, to state, to national, to international the family had grown to accept that this was no passing hobby. But Gordon still lived with the constant threat that he would be pulled out the pool if his grades dropped too low. It was taking all his energy to keep on top of his school work to the required B- average insisted on by his father so that he could keep doing the one thing he felt truly good at. The one thing that set him apart from his over-achieving brothers.

At least the teachers didn’t judge him or at least couldn’t judge him against his more intellectual siblings. As soon as John had graduated high school and started at Harvard, an accomplishment for which he was several years younger than the average after skipping a couple of grades, Jeff had moved himself and the youngest boys away from rural Kansas to Los Angeles. The old farmhouse was retained but was no longer a permanent base for the family.

The move to the city was a strategic decision by Jeff and one that was only delayed in order to allow John to complete his high school education without the disruption of an inter-state move. For Jeff it meant the ability to site himself in the commercial heartlands expected of the business that was flourishing under his direction. It also meant he was able to get back each night to care for his youngest children, even if he sometimes didn’t make it back to the apartment before midnight.

It may have been expected that Jeff Tracy, an individual rapidly climbing the lists of America’s richest and most influential individuals, would have used the move as an opportunity to enrol his youngest sons in the finest educational establishment Los Angeles had to offer. But Jeff Tracy was a man raised in Kansas wheat fields. A man for whom his own success and the successes of his eldest three sons had been built on the foundations of learning delivered in small town rural schools. What was good enough for him was good enough for all his children. There were no private tutors or exclusive schools. Gordon and Alan found themselves enrolled in the regular district school with its air of neglect and underfunding.

A large part of Gordon really wanted to be back in his math class. Not because he had any great fondness for the subject but because he found it hard in a way the others didn’t. He was not above digging out Virgil’s old annotated English texts or Scott’s history files if he wanted a bit of extra insight for his essays but math was different. Any notes left by his siblings were generally an incomprehensible scrawl. Not that any of them had made many math notes; they all seemed to just get it. 

Gordon still remembered the first time after John had headed off to Harvard that he had called for help with his homework. John had tried to be patient but there had been an unmistakeable tone of annoyance accompanied by a condescending eye roll clearly visible on the call screen. Gordon had been left in no doubt that John found the idea of a Tracy struggling with algebra to be frankly insulting. Virgil had displayed rather more patience and understanding but the pity that came with the help was too much for Gordon to take. He didn’t want to find out what Scott’s reaction would be. The golden haloed first-born was becoming increasingly distant and superior as his career in the Air Force progressed. 

And so Gordon ploughed on alone. Taking study guides to swim competitions to read between the heats. Trying to juggle the conflicting demands of Team USA and Team Tracy. The former striving for physical excellence and peak performance, the latter demanding excellence across the board.

The careers advisor on the far side of the desk looked up at the young man sat opposite her. The school records showed he was academically above average. He had prospects. 

The students that entered her office tended to fall into three broad categories. There were the ones that didn’t really need their regulation advice session having already got their chosen career path mapped out, whether that involved furthering their education or just jumping straight into the local jobs market. There were those that were bewildered and clueless about where to turn next. Then there were those that just didn’t seem to care and who drifted through her office much like they drifted through the rest of their school career. She wondered which she would encounter in this interview.

“So Gordon” she smiled at the teenager, “have you considered what you want to do after you graduate high school?”

The teen looked at her with a slightly surprised expression.

“Swim, ma’am” 

It was said bluntly and without preamble, accompanied by a mid-western politeness that the move to the city hadn’t shaken off. Stated as fact rather than as some hypothetical idea. She had encountered plenty of teenagers with dreams of making it big on the sporting circuit but very few made it professional. Usually the dreams were of football or basketball; swimming was a new one to add to her list. 

“Swim?”

“Yes ma’am, swim. I’ve already got my qualifying time sorted. Come the summer I’ll be at the Olympics.” 

Cogs clicked into place. This was her nineteenth interview of the day and the students were beginning to blur together, even with the supplementary notes put together by the tutors that actually got to see these kids each day. The low attendance scores suddenly made sense. Gordon Tracy, the rising star of the swimming circuit.

“Of course.” She flustered slightly over her notes. It was a new experience to have a member of the Olympic squad sat before her. But she was obliged to be a sounding board for his career choice for the next ten minutes. She couldn’t just send him back to class off the back of a one word answer. She decided to stick to familiar territory; if they know the plan, find out the backup plan.

“Have you considered what you will do after swimming? You have good grades here. I’d recommend making a college application.”

The youngster gave a hollow sort of chuckle. “Not good enough for anywhere that matters. I think I’ll stick to what I’m good at, ma’am.”

The interview was brought to a close by the final bell of the day and Gordon was glad to be able to scoop up his rucksack and escape the claustrophobic confines of the office. He was sure the careers advisor meant well but he felt that the session was a pretty pointless experience. Actually being in class would have been a better use of his time.

As he reached the front of the school he spied Alan waiting for him in their usual spot. The younger boy was scuffing his shoes in the dirt while waiting, the bored expression of his face breaking into smile when he saw his older brother. They set off on the short walk back the apartment.

“Good day, Al?”

“Yeah, ok”

“Much homework?”

Alan grimaced. He was about as fond of homework as Gordon was.

“I’ll take that as a yes. Well make sure you get on with it as soon as we get in. No video games until it’s finished.”

“Yes Sir!” The response was accompanied by a mocking salute which earned Alan a gentle whack on the back of the head.

“Hey, less of that. I’m not Scott. But seriously Al, just make sure you get it done. I’ve got an extra training session tonight but only a short one; you’ll have the place to yourself until about 6. I’ll sort us some dinner once I’m home.”

“Will you be able to play video games with me once you’re back.”

“Sorry, I’ll have my own work to get on with.”

Alan’s shoulders slumped dejectedly and his feet dragged along the sidewalk.

“Another quiet night then.”

Gordon hated seeing Alan so flat. The pair spent a significant amount of time together and, like all his brothers, he had a desire to protect the youngest. He wrapped an arm around the shoulders of the shorter boy and was rewarded with a shove in the ribs. Evidently anything even slightly resembling a hug in public was out this close to the school grounds.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

They had reached the apartment by this point. Gordon dashed inside to grab his swimming kit and left Alan with strict instructions to make sure he got all his homework done. He didn’t like leaving Alan home alone but it was a regular occurrence now. Their father wouldn’t be home for hours and with all the others moved away the youngest two had got used to fending for themselves. He left Alan with a promise that they would spend some time together later.

The training session passed in a blur of drills. There were now more days with both morning and evening training in preparation for the Olympics and the extra workouts were taking their toll. By the time Gordon reached the apartment his shoulders ached and all he wanted to do was stand under a scalding hot shower before collapsing in to bed. Unfortunately he knew he had other responsibilities to attend to first.

Gordon rolled his shoulders, plastered on a smile and scanned the entry system for the apartment. 

xoxoxox

Normally weekday meals were Gordon’s domain or he was at least there to help out if Alan ventured into the kitchen. But he had completed his homework quicker than expected and in the boredom of the empty apartment it had seemed like a good idea to start dinner.

He took the pack of greens from the fridge, prodded the pan of pasta and gave the chicken a quick stir. As he sliced the greens an acrid smell assaulted his nostrils. The chicken, which had been cooking nicely until now seemed to have chosen the moment he took his eye off the ball to catch and stick to the bottom of the pan. Carefully prepared strips of prime breast disintegrated and crumbled as he tried to scrape the dried out offerings from the base of the pan. He cursed, turned out the stove, and went back to preparing the greens. 

The clock ticked closer to 6pm. Steam rose in billows from the pan of greens which had reached a rapid boil. Perhaps he should have waited until Gordon was actually home before cooking the vegetables, the shredded leaves were starting to disintegrate. 

At least the pasta should be ok. 

The pasta which _wasn’t_ boiling.

More cursing filled the air as Alan realised his error. In his attempt to salvage the chicken he had turned off the heat under the pasta as well. Perhaps he should have just let Gordon cook the whole thing. This was a mistake. All he wanted to do was free up some time in the hope of getting a game in with Gordon and instead he had ruined everything. He wondered if it was too late to dig out the emergency credit card and call for take out. He would just have to make sure Dad took it out of his allowance rather than Gordon’s.

The sound of the front door broke through his thoughts. 

“Hi Alan.” The voice echoed up the hallway. Footsteps approached, only pausing briefly as a kit bag was launched into a room, landing in a corner with a heavy thud. Too late to salvage anything now, within moments Gordon was in the doorway. “Hey, you cooked. Thanks”

“No need to sound so surprised. Don’t thank me til you’ve tried it though. It’s, um, not really gone to plan.”

“I’m sure it’s fine. Want me to drain these pans while you get the plates out?”

Alan signalled his agreement by delving into the crockery cupboard leaving Gordon to drain and stir together the contents of the various pans. He wasn’t exactly looking forward to the meal but Gordon seemed grateful to be spared the chore.

Dinner was everything Alan expected it to be. They sat opposite sides of the kitchen counter, Gordon shovelling down vast quantities of noodles while he picked at his own much smaller portion. The meat was as dry as cardboard and stuck in his throat alongside the shards of undercooked pasta. Perhaps he ought to pay more attention in the kitchen, especially as Gordon was likely to be training more and more over the coming months. 

Gordon’s fork clattered onto the empty plate before Alan was even half way through. He looked up to see eyes the colour of mahogany under the harsh kitchen lights looking at him with concern.

“You ok? You’ve hardly eaten.”

“I’m fine. Just wishing I’d ordered us a pizza instead.” He waved a forkful of charred chicken to emphasise his point.

This earned him a small chuckle and at least dispelled the worry.

“Hey, no complaints from me over it. I think my coach would have something so say about that too, we’ll save the pizza for the summer. I’ll start clearing up while you finish off. You still want that game?”

Alan grinned. Suddenly the pasta was a lot easier to stomach if there was a chance to thrash his brother in the goblin realms at the end of it. 

xoxoxox

As the clock ticked past midnight and into the small hours of the morning Gordon lay in the darkness, sleep refusing to come. His normally comfortable bed felt too lumpy and he turned this way and that. First facing the blank wall next to the bed, then the ceiling and finally the open room. A shelf of trophies glinted faintly in the light that managed to spill around the edges of the heavy blackout curtains. Back in Kansas Gordon had rarely bothered closing his curtains; he had always been an early riser and was usually up long before the dawn in order to get to early morning training or fit in a gym session before school. But the pervading yellow glow of the city from the ever present light pollution wasn’t like the peaceful moon. On nights like this the city felt oppressive and he yearned for the open fields of home, as he still though of Kansas. Gordon might now be able to access better training facilities and coaches which had enhanced his Olympic prospects but he had never embraced city life. 

He was exhausted. The training session after school had been intense and he had thrown himself into the drills with maximum effort. The gaming session had probably been a mistake but he hadn’t wanted to let Alan down. The kid had gone to the trouble of trying to make dinner and save him a job. Ok, the noodles had been still firm to the point of being slightly crunchy and the greens had been on the verge of turning to soup but it’s the thought that counts. It was calories. It was from his prescribed meal plan. It was mostly edible. He appreciated the level of consideration shown by a teenager who shouldn’t have any more pressing concerns than getting his chemistry paper completed and working out whether Ellen from World Studies class had a crush on him.

His own homework had been its usual slog. He wrote until his eyes became sticky and the notes he was reading became a jumbled blur. Sleep should have enveloped him within minutes of climbing into bed but instead the words from his earlier interview kept churning around his head. The thoughts drowning out even the gnawing ache in his overworked muscles. 

What about after?

He had always managed to stave these thoughts off before. Whenever his father had made comments about future plans he has always managed to deflect the conversations. He didn’t have room in his head for anything other than visualising the dream. Why on earth should the words of a complete stranger, parroted from some state approved script, make life any different. 

He was a Tracy. A name synonymous success and achievement. He had found his calling in a way that set him apart from the others. 

He was going to swim.

He was going to represent his country.

He was going to win.

He ran through the visualisation that had been a constant companion in his head for years. He could feel the flow of the water over his body as his muscles flexed in perfect synchronicity. He could hear the roar of the crowd as the results flashed up on the scoreboard. He rode the wave of emotion as the medal was presented. This was the moment that would mark him out as more than just the fourth son of an astronaut. Gordon Cooper Tracy. A name in his own right.

With the sound of the national anthem still ringing in his ears Gordon tried to visualise the next steps. He tried to force the dream beyond its current conclusion but instead found only darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

The early light of dawn was just visible around the curtain edges in the lounge. The reflected light off the large screen projection illuminated the figures staring avidly at the screen with a soft blue glow. The occasion had been deemed worthy of setting up the large cinematic screen meaning the whole glittering spectacle filled nearly a whole wall of the generously proportioned room.

Jeff sat back in an aged leather armchair shipped specially from Kansas. The form of it had moulded to his body by the passage of many years although he rarely had time to relax in it now. Across the room Virgil and John, both on vacation from university, book-ended the sofa; a sleek designer affair that manged to combine both style and comfort. Both looked sleepy and a little unfocussed. Virgil had never been a fan of early mornings and it was entirely possible that John hadn’t actually made it to bed yet if he had spent the night engrossed in the stars. His youngest son, still a child and growing into his talents, sat on the floor leaning back against the sofa rather than sitting on the chair itself. In Alan’s hands was a cup of popcorn chosen especially for the cinematic treat. He sat there in rapt awe, barely blinking as he popped piece after piece of white fluff into his mouth. Jeff nursed his own mug of inky black coffee. The aroma of the beans filling the space around him with a rich warmth.

At last the moment they had been waiting for arrived. Team USA marched into shot; processing around a stadium half a world and many time zones away. Ranks of the chosen few strode across the screen in all their athletic glory. The athletes were bedecked in pristine white trousers and shirts topped with navy blue blazers. Red trim to the lapels completed the patriotic ensemble. The young men and women chosen to represent their country trailed behind the flag bearer, their lines arranged with military precision. Jeff rather thought the effect was spoiled by the individuals walking out of step with each other and waving to the crowd in the surrounding stadium. It jarred with his Air Force history which much preferred the uniformity of troops marching smartly in time.

A squeal broke through his internal criticism of the scene.

“There he is! There he is!”

Alan’s voice, still high pitched in its youth, filled the space with an exuberant joy. The cup of popcorn was tilting dangerously towards the floor as the youngest of five spotted his next in line.

The fourth Tracy son crossed the screen and disappeared out of sight in a matter of seconds and Jeff was forced to pause, rewind and replay the footage several times before Alan had got his fill of the sight. 

Gordon looked happy. Happier than he had done for weeks. Happy didn’t do justice to the beaming, grinning individual with sandy blonde hair slightly tinted by chlorine who strode between his fellow countrymen and women. He seemed to bounce along, riding the waves of the atmosphere that swirled around the stadium. 

Jeff had seen little of his second youngest son lately despite technically living in the same house. Both had demanding schedules; one filled with work and business meetings, the other filled with school and pool training. The moment school had finished Gordon had been whisked away to the pre-games training camp, missing both his high school graduation ceremony and the senior prom. The young man on the screen was almost a stranger and definitely an enigma to him.

Jeff’s eldest three sons were of a mind-set he could understand. They were studious, clever, indeed highly gifted in their chosen fields. He had been immensely proud when Scott had been accepted to Yale and then followed him down his own career path into the Air Force. The young man was making quite a name for himself in the service if the regular updates sent through by old colleagues were to be believed; he had already been promoted to First Lieutenant and it looked like he would soon be a Captain. Virgil excelled in engineering but also retained a quiet compassion that allowed him to see the world as more than just a set of variables and constants to be manipulated. John had followed him to the stars and Jeff had no doubt that his quietest son could follow him out of Earth’s atmosphere and beyond just a theoretical study of space travel if he so desired.

Gordon was evidently gifted too but in a direction he couldn’t quite comprehend. Physical ability was a facet he appreciated and even John had submitted to his requirement for regular structured exercise. But a strong body needed to be a vessel for a keen mind and Gordon just hadn’t shown any particular leanings towards an academic field.

He was as proud as any father could be that a son of his had reached the Olympics and at such a young age but he still worried for his son’s future prospects. 

A sigh from the floor broke through his contemplations.

“I wish we could have been there for the opening ceremony.”

“Now Alan, we’ve been through this. Gordon’s heats don’t start for another week. I’ve got us tickets to his events and we will be there to see him compete in person but I just cannot spare the time to take you out there for the whole duration of the Games.”

“But Virgil could have taken me. Or John.” The voice was a petulant whine now. 

“Virgil and John might be on summer break but they both still have work to do. The last thing either of them need is to be responsible for you at the biggest international sporting event in the world. Watching sport has never been your thing before. It’s normally hard enough to prise you away from those video games you play.”

Both Virgil and John looked infinitely relieved that neither of them was expected to be responsible for an excitable young teenager in a foreign country. It was bad enough taking him bowling or to the cinema. Alan seemed to be well and truly gripped by Olympic fever, hence them all watching the live coverage of the opening ceremony at some hideous time of the morning rather than watching a recording at a more socially acceptable hour. It seemed to mean so much to their youngest brother to get the chance to watch out for Gordon live that they hadn’t had the heart to refuse. It was just as well Gordon had had his few seconds of glory on screen otherwise Alan would have been beyond devastated not to have seen him. 

“But it’s the _Olympics_. And it’s _Gordon_.” As if this explained everything.

“And you will get to see Gordon compete in every race he is in when we fly out next week. Even Scott has managed to arrange some leave so he can join us. Gordon will be well supported.”

Alan huffed slightly in response but went back to staring at the screen, the popcorn once again being shovelled in as figures from all nations strode across in a seemingly never ending stream of competitors.

Once it became clear that Team USA would not be making another appearance Virgil and John sloped off. Virgil to reclaim his bed, John to find his for the first time that sleep cycle having reverted to a near nocturnal pattern without classes to drag him away from his beloved stars. Both had willingly joined the spectators in the lounge but the time difference left a lot to be desired and both were exhausted after a long and difficult semester. Jeff followed after but for him the destination was to work rather than bed. Alan was soon left to watch the conclusion of the carefully choreographed spectacle alone.

xoxoxox

Virgil padded towards the kitchen, he socks making no sound on the hardwood floor. He could almost forget that there was anyone else in the apartment. He had barely seen his brothers all day and Jeff was still at the office. John had spent much of the day sleeping after grumbling that the city skies really hadn’t been worth staying up for. He assumed Alan was engrossing in another gaming session. Part of him wondered if he ought to have a word with their dad; his youngest brother seemed to spend an unhealthy amount of time hooked up to a console.

He paused at Alan’s door, taking a moment to take in the view through the crack. Rather than being strapped into a VR headset as expected, Alan was instead sprawled on his bed. A screen was propped up on his knees. The murmured one sided conversation suggested a video call rather than another game. He wasn’t normally one to eavesdrop but curiosity overcame Virgil as he wondered who on earth Alan could be talking to. He didn’t talk about any particular school friends and beyond Grandma they had no family to speak of. He stayed to one side of the doorway out of sight and listened. If he stood absolutely still he could just about pick up the other voice on the line.

“The stadium looked huge. What was it like? Did you get some photos for me?”

“Yeah, it’s massive. Kinda makes be glad I’m not in the track and field events. No photos though, we couldn’t take cameras in to the opening ceremony. We didn’t even get to see the show afterwards, just lots of waiting around to go in then straight back to the Village after. You probably saw more than I did.”

Gordon then. He figured it must already be the next morning for their absent athlete.

“Aww. We saw you, y’know. Who was the cute blonde you were next to?”

Virgil smirked. For all he might bounce like an excited puppy Alan was evidently growing up and the hormones were kicking up.

“Which one? Amber the high jumper or Brad the hockey player?”

“Amber, I’ll leave Brad to you. Think you can introduce me when we’re over there?”

“No chance. Firstly, she already has a long term boyfriend. And secondly, you’re about five years too young for that sort of stuff.”

“Hey, I’m not that young. Not that you’d think it the way things go round here. There’s something going on and Dad won’t tell me about it. Since John and Virgil got back Dad keeps having meetings with them in the study.”

“Rather them than me. You know as well as I do the study only means bad news.”

“I don’t think so. And since when has John ever been chewed out over anything. It’s not like he ever missed curfew or turned in a bad report card. I don’t know what’s going on but this place is full of secrets. They all just treat me as a kid though, like I wouldn’t understand.”

“Try not to worry about it Al. Why don’t you get John to help you finish that sim you were coding?”

“Maybe. He just seems so busy though.”

“Look, I’ve got to go, I’ve got training soon. I’ll try and call same time tomorrow if that works for you.”

“Sure.”

“Don’t forget to eat your vegetables and clean your teeth.”

“Yes Mom. Now don’t you need to go put some water wings on.”

“Cheeky brat. Speak to you tomorrow. Bye.”

“Bye Gordo.”

Virgil watched as the screen was put to one side, the smile sliding off of Alan’s face, before continued his journey to the kitchen to grab a drink. That brief conversation with Gordon was more words than he had heard out of his youngest sibling in one go since he had arrived back home. He had put it down to sullen teenage moods but evidently Alan could be quite chatty when he wanted to.

Alan was clearly missing Gordon. The youngest two had always been close. Despite Gordon technically being closer in age to John than Alan the sibling friendship pairings hadn’t worked out that way. Virgil realised how little he knew about the youngest pair beyond Gordon’s swimming. Since when had Alan been able to code simulations? And what sort of simulations?

He shrugged it off as a conundrum for another day. They would be flying out to the Olympics in just a few days and he wanted to get a project plan sent off to his supervisor before that happened. The meetings with Jeff, which Alan had evidently picked up on, had changed the direction of his post-grad project and he wanted to get the revisions in before travelling. Bonding time could happen once the work was completed.


	3. Chapter 3

John tiptoed back to the room he had been allocated to share with Alan, his head buzzing with ideas. Before, everything his father had mentioned had seemed hypothetical but with all four of them in the room together it looked like this plan could be more than just a pipedream. Their father obviously thought they had the skills between them. With all the potential operatives together the discussions had continued long into the night. A rescue organisation with first responder, transporter, space rocket and communications satellite. 

For him it would be the chance to live amongst the stars. A career in space was something he had been striving towards. Every extra credit course. Every summer camp and internship. Each had been a steppingstone towards his dream of working for the World Space Agency. And then his father had dropped the bombshell that there could be an alternative. He would still need to complete a training course at Tracy College, as would Scott and Virgil, but he was being offered a golden opportunity albeit one that would take several years to come to fruition. Never usually one to give in to flights of fantasy John found himself daydreaming.

The door latch clicked closed and John was half way to his bed before he realised anything was amiss. The room was dark and still. 

Too still.

There was no restless turning of a sleeper disturbed by his return. No heavy breathing of a brother at rest. The room was silent and disconcertingly empty. 

He didn’t panic. John had never understood the point of panicking. It rarely achieved anything and was often a hindrance. Panicking was something other people did. John didn’t panic, he used logic; he found it much more effective. 

Alan’s bed was not only empty of his missing sibling, it was also bereft of its coverings. The mattress stripped of its duvet and pillows. The floor length curtain fluttered slightly and a gentle breeze broke the heavy stillness of the room. John stepped over to investigate.

Alan was stretched out on his back on the balcony, the duvet forming a barrier between the teen and the hard planking. At first John thought he was asleep. The room itself was stuffy and he could see the appeal of retreating to the balcony even if it made more sense to just adjust the air conditioning. He was debating whether or not to wake Alan up and move him back inside when a voice spoke from the floor.

“Finally finished then?”

John chose to ignore the question. Jeff had made it clear that the plans were not to be discussed with the youngest two until things had progressed further. There was still a lot that could go awry, not least espionage, and secrecy was a pivotal concern. 

“Trouble sleeping?”

“Something like that. Never had the chance to see the southern stars before. I was hoping we could look at them together. Thought you might finally have time now.”

There was an accusatory edge to Alan’s voice and John felt a stab of guilt. Ever since he had got back from college Alan had been asking him for an astronomy session but there had always been some excuse. His college work. Meetings with Dad. Or sometimes just wanting to be alone as he missed the freedom and solitude of his own apartment. Alan had latched on like a shadow. He’d even protested against having to share a room with Alan for this Olympics trip even if Scott and Virgil were also having to share, the penthouse apartment not being equipped with enough rooms for them to each have their own. All his little brother wanted to do was spend time with him. John realised he hadn’t even given the younger boy a chance.

“Budge over.”

Alan shuffled across on the duvet, making room for John to stretch out beside him. They lay close, side by side. Both were of a similar build and their lithe forms fitted easily on the impromptu mattress. Alan was still several growth spurts shy of reaching his full potential but it looked like he too, as had happened to all his brothers except Gordon, would one day exceed 6 foot. Under the stars they both loved the similarities were more marked than their differences.

“Seen anything interesting?”

“You missed Jupiter but to be honest the light pollution is almost as bad as L.A. I’d love to head out to the dark sky reserve and take a proper look but I guess this this will have to do. I don’t know when I’ll next be in this hemisphere again. Even Crux is hard to make out against the glow.”

John followed the arm of his pointing sibling and could just make out the constellation that was one of the defining features of the southern hemisphere. Alan was right, the light pollution of the city meant the stars were barely visible. John had to bite his tongue over one thing though, if Jeff’s plan came to fruition then the southern skies could soon become the norm for Alan.

The pointing arm began moving about.

“So if Crux is there. And Centaurus is there.” There was a pause as Alan consulted his mental map and made a few calculations. “Then home must be over….there.”

“You’ve worked out where L.A. is?” He made his own rapid calculations and came up with a similar answer. He couldn’t help but be slightly impressed. Alan had always shown a similar interest in the stars to himself and it looked like this interest hadn’t waned.

“Well I wouldn’t trust it as accurate. I just like to test myself whenever I go somewhere new. I was thinking of Kansas though. L.A. isn’t really home. Never has been.” There was a pause then, barely whispered, “You guys aren’t there.” 

John looked across but Alan was still staring resolutely up at the sky. He knew he didn’t associate Los Angeles with home. He had stayed in Kansas for a year to finish school when their father had made the move to California, then headed straight to Harvard. To him the apartment in the city was just somewhere to visit between semesters. But surely Alan should have been more settled by now. He had lived in the city for several years with Dad and Gordon. 

He thought back to his latest visit. With the exception of the bedrooms the apartment looked like a show home; devoid of personality. It was a place where individuals coexisted rather than somewhere that a family lived. It was a stark contrast to the slightly run down farmhouse with the mismatched furniture collected over the years. The marks on the walls that each told a story; the stain from when Alan got hold of Virgil’s paints, the dent in the doorframe from when Scott threw a baseball inside. The apartment had no such stories. No memories. Alan was right, it wasn’t a home. 

“I doubt we can make it out to the dark sky reserve, the schedule is pretty tight, but if you want we take a trip out to the mountains when we get back. Take the telescope.”

“Really?” The eagerness was barely disguised. 

“Sure. I’ll still have a couple of weeks before I have to head back east. I’m sure we can wrangle a few days away.”

They lay side by side staring up at unfamiliar skies until they drifted off to sleep, lulled by the perpetual murmur of the city below them.

xoxoxox

John awoke to the sun in his eyes and cramp in his foot. In a moment of disorientation he couldn’t work out why his bed was so hard or the room was so bright as he clutched at the offending limb and attempted to stretch out his toes.

His startled flailing woke the figure to the side of him. Alan stretched, bounced up off the floor, then held out a hand to his incapacitated sibling. John grasped it gratefully and levered himself up. The cramp might have eased but his whole body felt stiff from the unintentional slumber on the decking. He wondered how on earth Alan was able to move about so freely.

“You want first shower?” Alan asked as they headed back into the room.

John nodded gratefully. He hadn’t meant to bed down under the stars and as such was still wearing his clothes from the day before. After travelling across continents and then sleeping outside the outfit was decidedly rumpled and worse for wear.

He stepped into the en-suite and shucked the dirty clothes onto the floor. The shower was hot and powerful, the steady stream of drops beat against his aching muscles. He could have stayed there all morning but the sound of Alan rapping on the door reminded him that this was a shared space and there was a schedule to be adhered to.

Breakfast was a quiet affair in the lounge area with plenty of coffee to fuel the day although Alan stuck to juice and water, commenting that he couldn’t understand why they all felt the need to drink the bitter brew. This just drew amused smirks from his elders, sure that one day he would discover the delights of the bean. Coffee was treated with reverence by the other Tracys. Virgil didn’t like to venture outside before his second cup. Jeff insisted on a fresh ground beans of single origin. Scott and John were less particular in their tastes but even they liked to start the day with a strong fix to kick start the senses.

The morning was spent pool-side watching a mixed assortment of heats and races. Alan had the whole schedule memorised and counted down the events until Tracy four was due to take his turn in the water. He seemed to know every statistic of every competitor and chattered away to any brother that would listen. 

At last, towards the end of the session, the men’s 200m butterfly was announced. The family sat forward expectantly. Gordon was tipped to do well but his heat was a difficult draw. Both the Australian and Dutch competitors would be in the water with him and all of them had their sights set on medals. Three medal hopefuls but only two places available in the final. There could be no saving himself; every lap mattered.

At the sound of the gun Gordon launched himself into the water. Five sets of eyes tracked him from above, barely daring to blink. Five hearts thumped as the battle was fought. Five collective breaths were released as the timing board announced what they had all thought they had seen; second place for USA. Gordon would live to fight another day.

Emerging into the bright sunshine of early afternoon the family found themselves basking in the refreshing breeze that wafted through the Olympic Park. The gallery had suffered from the intense heat and humidity common to swimming pools the world over. The echoing acoustics had made the cheers of the crowd deafening and it was a relief to step back into outside world.

“Well, that’s it for today” Jeff announced to his assembled brood. “There are some taekwondo and athletics tickets for tomorrow and then Gordon’s final is the day after. For now though I’ve got to head back to the hotel and catch up with some work, don’t make plans for me for dinner.” 

Leaving them to sort it out amongst themselves Jeff turned and headed back to the hotel. The brothers knew their father well enough to read between the lines. He evidently didn’t want to be disturbed and the expectation was that they would stay away from the hotel, at least for the next few hours and preferably until nightfall. 

Scott was about assume responsibility for the group when John spoke up.

“I thought I might take Alan out to where the mountain biking is taking place. You don’t need tickets for that.” Alan’s eyes lit up at the prospect of spending time with his favourite available brother and watching people hurtling at speed down steep hills and over rocks. “You two don’t need to come if it’s not your thing.” 

“You sure you’ll be ok with him?”

“Seriously Scott, we don’t need a chaperone. Alan and I will be perfectly fine by ourselves.” 

Scott shrugged in an ‘if you’re sure’ sort of gesture. As much as he knew Alan would love to see people risk life and limb in the name of sport he also knew it most definitely was not John’s usual choice of activity. Still, if it got him out of an afternoon of playing sheepdog he wasn’t going to question John’s motives too deeply. 

He turned to Virgil. “Looks like it’s you and me then. Unless you also want to watch the mountain biking?”

“Not really. I’d rather stay central. Maybe head over to the marina.”

“Sounds good to me. You’ll give me a ring if you need anything.” John just rolled his eyes in response.

The siblings split into pairs; one set heading off to the taxis that would take them to the artificial hill course, the other set heading to the waterfront.

The harbour area was packed with visitors and a little too crowded to be comfortable. Scott and Virgil headed away from the Olympic area, following the esplanade until the crowds thinned out. They had had enough sporting hype for one day and were ready to just relax. Scott’s leave was only a few days for the duration of Gordon’s events and he knew he would soon be immersed back in Air Force life. Best make use of the opportunity for some rest and relaxation while he could.

They walked in companionable silence until, as if by mutual accord, their steps led them to a waterfront bar. The sun was starting to dip towards the horizon but the evening was still warm and the parasols at each table gave some welcome shade. The brothers found themselves drawn to an empty table. They were soon comfortably settled, the ocean glittering in front of them mirroring the sparkling condensation on their beer glasses.

Scott took a deep pull and sank half his drink before Virgil had barely sipped an inch earning himself a disapproving look from the younger man. Scott chose to ignore it. He rarely got down time. There were always so many responsibilities. His squadron. Younger brothers. But John had taken custody of Alan and Virgil was old enough to look after himself meaning Scott could enjoy not being in _loco parentis_ for a while. If he chose to enjoy that freedom by drinking a little too much a little too quickly then so be it.

A second drink swiftly followed the first and the conversation flowed just as freely as the beer. Of all the sibling bonds Scott’s and Virgil’s was probably the strongest despite them rarely getting time together any more. 

As the glasses stacked up Scott beckoned to a nearby waitress who was collecting empties from the outside tables. He beamed at her causing the dimples in his cheeks to appear like craters.

“Hey beautiful, could we get another couple of drinks over here? And maybe some scotch chasers?”

She nodded and Scott turned to watch her as she headed back inside, his eyes raking up and down her body.

“Put your tongue away” Virgil commented. “You’re practically drooling.”

“Can’t a guy appreciate the finer things in life?”

“Not if it means perving over the locals. She’s just trying to do her job.”

“I am not perving. I’m admiring. I thought you were meant to be the artist seeing the beauty in everything?”

They arrival of said waitress with the next round of drinks soon put an end to their argument and cause the re-emergence of the dimples. He fixed her a look with his startling blue eyes that he knew most women found irresistible.

“Thanks. Say, are you working late tonight?”

“Late enough.”

“Only I was hoping someone with local knowledge could help show me the sights.”

“Sorry boys. No moonlighting as a tour guide. It’s company policy.” She stacked the empty glasses onto her tray and headed back inside.

“Well that shot you down.” Virgil smirked. “We’ve barely been here twenty four hours and already you’re trying to get laid. Can’t you keep it in your pants for one trip? We’re here to support Gordon, not so that you can add more notches to your bedpost. And had you forgotten we are sharing a room?”

Scott snorted. “So what if I fancied having a little fun, it’s not like I get much chance back at base. The Air Force isn’t exactly awash with opportunity between postings and combat missions. And if Dad’s plan actually happens and we’re all dragged in to it it’s not like any of us will have much of a life.”

“What do you mean ‘dragged in’? I thought you were on board with this whole rescue business?”

“Well you thought wrong.”

By this point yet another beer had been drained, swiftly followed by the scotch. The burn of a cheap blend hit the back of Scott’s throat with a kick.

“Seriously, what does he hope to achieve with just four of us? All that bull crap about saving the world one family at a time. The world already has rescue services and the World Security Patrol. It doesn’t need us sacrificing ourselves too.”

“But surely if we can make a difference?”

“I already make a difference. I like my life Virg and I’m good at what I do. Dad is asking me to give up the career I’ve worked hard for just to fit his idea. It’s not easy being a Tracy in the Air Force; everyone always has some story about Dad but I’m finally making it in my own right. And now he’s talking like this is some foregone conclusion.”

“You’d really rather follow the orders of some Air Force brass than help save lives? Your unit isn’t exactly a humanitarian force. What about doing it for Mom? He said this was her legacy.”

“Of course I want to save lives but sometimes the defence of our nation calls for a more forceful response; eliminating the few to save the many.” 

“Yeah, you keep telling yourself that.” This was one area where Scott and Virgil never had seen eye to eye. Scott was proud to serve his country. Some days though, when the intelligence was flawed or the benefits didn’t seem to justify the costs, he found himself wondering if the family pacifist had a point.

“Even if I did leave the Air Force I’d still be following orders, they would just be Dad’s orders. I can’t see it being run by committee, can you? And he can leave Mom out of this. Her legacy was Dad burying himself behind a mountain of paperwork or at the bottom of a scotch bottle while we picked up the pieces. Or have you forgotten having to juggle school work around getting the kids to swim meets and after school clubs?”

“He isn’t like that any more.”

“Ok, so there are fewer empty bottles in the recycling but there was still a massive Alan shaped hole in his plan. You know what Dad is like when he gets his teeth into something; anything not directly necessary gets pushed to one side and that includes his own family.” There was a drawn out sigh as the fire burnt out. “I don’t think I’m ready to take that on again.”

Virgil knocked back his own scotch as he considered Scott’s words. His elder brother was right; Gordon and Alan were conspicuously absent it the run down of how the organisation would operate. Ok, Gordon wasn’t so much of an issue but Alan still had several years of school ahead of him. He just had to trust that there was some plan in place in the background for the youngest.

He shrugged and shivered slightly as the wind changed direction and blew in off the now black ocean. Around them tables were being wiped down and lights were being dimmed, a clear indication that it was time to call it a night. The pair hailed a cab and rode in silence back to the hotel, each lost in their own thoughts.


	4. Chapter 4

The call connected but brought not the cheery tones of a brother but the now overly-familiar sound of yet another voicemail request to leave a message after the tone. The last few days had been a litany of missed calls and crossed text messages. Whenever he had a break between training and physio appointments the family seemed to be watching another event with phones off. Whenever he returned from a gym or pool session there would be another blinking icon waiting for him. Another failed attempt at contact.

It was great seeing the messages wishing him good luck followed by messages offering congratulations as he cleared his heat but it would have been nice to speak to his family in person. Everyone else on the squad seemed to be able to schedule video calls with loved ones. You would have thought that with such a large family he would have struck lucky at some point. 

Gordon scrolled through the call history. Alan. Scott. Virgil. Even John, the least sociable of his siblings and apparently with an allergy to small-talk, had made two attempts to reach him over the last few days. And there, right at the bottom, one single attempt from his father to make contact shortly after his initial heat. He wondered how the call would have gone. Would he have received congratulations for making it to the final or would he have had to justify his second place finish? It was too late to speculate now. His coach was rapping impatiently on the door; it was time to head to the pool for the race of his life. 

The changing area was filled with the incomprehensible babble of a multitude of languages. Old rivals sat alongside new upstarts. Gordon plugged in his earphones in an attempt to drown out the sound and get into the zone. He had been competing for long enough to know what worked for him; even his coach knew better than to try and intrude at this point. The familiar playlist hammered into his head as he leant back against the cool tiles. Eyes closed. Breathing regulated by the sound of the beat. He waited to be called through for his race.

The playlist wasn’t working. He wasn’t normally prone to nerves but this was the big one, the race everyone had been talking about. From the early whispers as a kid on the junior circuit through to actual squad selection the word ‘Olympics’ had never been far away. This was the dream. This would be his defining moment. It was as if none of his other achievements mattered. This was what he had been training for all these years. Everything else was just a warm up. 

He checked his phone one last time. Nothing new. Of course there wasn’t, everyone would be up on the balcony already but it gave his hands something to do. Every muscle felt jittery. The announcement that it was time to go pool side had him bouncing up as though the starting gun itself had gone off.

xoxoxox

Alan practically hung over the balcony rail, straining to see the far end of the pool where the competitors would be making their entrance near the starting blocks.

A heavy hand on his shoulder pulled him back and stopped him leaning out too far. 

“Steady there. He’ll be out soon enough. Don’t want you going into the water.”

Alan huffed at Scott but complied, sitting heavily back in his seat, eyes roving to the big screen that was showing a shot of the top end of the pool. It was difficult to be patient when his brother would soon be competing in an Olympic final. For most of the spectators it was just another race in the session but for the Tracys it was personal. 

It wasn’t just Alan that fidgeted with impatience though, there was an air of barely repressed excitement running through the family group, the atmosphere in the venue just served to increase the tension. This was a big medals day in the pool and Team USA had already added a gold and two bronze to their total haul. The swimming squad was representing their country well and showing that USA was a sporting force to be reckoned with.

A cheer rippled through the venue as the athletes entered. A kaleidoscope of tracksuits parodying the flags and emblems of their nations appeared at the top end of the pool. The yellow and green of Australia shone out amongst the variants of red, white and blue worn by the representatives of USA, Russia and France. Eights athletes filed in to take their place on the seat behind their block. Eight bodies jiggled legs and stretched out arms and shoulders. Take a drink. Adjust goggles. An array of displacement activities and rituals as each competitor did what was needed to mentally prepare themselves for the task ahead.

At a signal from the officials eight figures stood and disrobed, exposing honed muscles and expanded shoulders. Gordon, placed in lane six after his narrow inclusion in the final, bounced on the balls of his feet. Slightly shorter than the average swimmer in the line up he was dwarfed by the Norwegian in lane five, his neighbour in the pool towered a good eight inches above the young American. 

There was no holding Alan back now and even his more self-controlled family were leaning forward against the railing to get a better view than that already offered by their front row seats. Eyes were fixed on the distant figure fifty meters away at the far end of the pool. 

Giving a start of realisation and guilt that he had almost forgotten Alan dug into his backpack, pulling out the banner he had cajoled Virgil into painting. He shoved the two ends into the hands of Scott and John who proceeded to tie it to the balcony so it could be seen hanging down from the guard rail. It was impossible to read the expressions of the swimmers from this distance but Alan swore he could see Gordon turn and smile in their direction. Whether this was true or not the others couldn’t tell but their squid certainly seemed to gain an air of calm after the banner was unfurled.

A further signal from the officials had the competitors stepping up on to their blocks. Silence descended over the crowd. 

Poised. 

Taut. 

Ready.

The starting gun had eight figures launching into the water with enviable grace and speed. 

Stroke. Glide. Breathe. Repeat. Each competitor found their rhythm and gave the performance of their life. 

Ordinarily the pack would form a V shape. An arrowhead through the water as those that had won their heats were graced with the more desirable centre lanes. 

Today was no ordinary day.

Today was the day Gordon Tracy dredged into reserves he barely knew he had. Start strong, stay strong, end strong. There was no let up in his pace and determination. Focus and rhythm aligned. The arrowhead was broken. Soon the commentary was focussed on lane six and the seventeen year old competing in his first Olympics. 

Cheers erupted from the Tracy section as the swimmers reached the final board and triggered the timing pads. From their seats aligned with the end of the pool they were in the perfect position to see Gordon hit home in first place.

For the swimmers in the water the rankings were less clear cut. Without the benefit of a grandstand view eight sets of eyes were focussed on the board awaiting the final results. Moments stretched into eternity as they waited for the official times.

1 USA GORDON TRACY 1:44.20 WR

There, on the first line of the board was the confirmation of not only his success but an achievement surpassing all hopes. A world record.

The family watched as down in the water Gordon shook hands over the lane dividers with the swimmers to left and right. He was a sportsman to the core and he congratulated those who had provided stiff competition. Only then did he turn and wave to the balcony, acknowledging the family that had supported him through years of training then followed him to the opposite end of the Earth to witness his crowning glory. The cameras tracked between the Tracy in the pool and the Tracys in the stand, capturing their moment of shared joy for eternity.

xoxoxox

The fluttering feeling in his stomach was off-putting to say the least and probably wasn’t helped by the two celery crunch bars and a glucose tablet he had inhaled after getting out the water, he knew they were needed after his intense energy usage though. The last time he’d tried to skip the obligatory post-race refuel he had nearly taken a header off the podium as his blood sugars crashed. He wondered if throwing up on an official was more embarrassing than fainting on them. 

The call to head out to the podium soon put a stop to the nerves as he was ushered back pool-side between the other two medallists. This time there was no escaping the fact that all eyes were on him but there was no performance required; the joy spread across his face was pure and true. This was the culmination of years of early morning training sessions. Gym, yoga, vitamins, nutrition schedules. Every missed party. Every rejected invitation to go bowling. The sacrifices he had made had come together to create one perfect moment. 

The medal, the anthem, the flowers; everything played out as he had imagined. The flash of a thousand camera bulbs only partly responsible for the tears in his eyes.

His dream. 

Complete.


	5. Chapter 5

The sound of his phone dragged Gordon out of a groggy sleep. The first day in months, maybe years, when he hadn’t set an alarm and his phone had to ring right through the middle of his much needed rest. The shrill tone sawed through his head and he screwed his eyes shut in an attempt to block out the sound. 

It didn’t work.

He breathed a sigh of relief as the ringing cut out. His head was pounding and his throat felt curiously sticky. The relief was short lived though as the phone started up again, each electronic trill stabbing into his brain like hot needles. He fumbled for the device and blearily read the name on the screen.

Dad

He half threw, half dropped the device back onto the tiny bedside unit that was mostly taken up by a half empty bottle of something local. He wasn’t too sure what the bottle contained, the only recognisable part of the label was an obscenely high ABV rating. His head was telling him clearly that whatever was in the bottle it was a mistake he didn’t want to repeat any time soon.

The ringtone was replaced with the bleep of an incoming message. Gordon made a second fumble for the device to read the text.

Dad: Call me in the next 3 minutes or I’m contacting security to look for you

Gordon looked at the time on his phone and sat up in a rush. A sickening wave washed over him, partly from the realisation that he was late meeting his family and partly the after effects of whatever it was he had been drinking the previous night. 

Recollections of the previous night’s festivities came back in a hazy swirl. Both the swimming and gymnastics events had reached their conclusion and the two contingents had come together to celebrate their medal haul. Both squads had achieved glittering success. Someone had ventured out into the wider city and come back supplied with a selection of drinks, one of which Gordon had evidently liberated and brought back to his room. The coaches had turned a blind eye to the celebrations which had carried on into the early hours.

The bed covers next to him rustled exposing a mass of raven curls. A finger was trailed down his chest and dark eyes blinked at him sleepily.

“What’s the matter, babe? Come back here and keep me warm.”

The realisation that he wasn’t alone snapped Gordon’s senses back into action. Tempting as it was to just sink back onto the narrow bed and curl up with whoever had found her way to his room Gordon knew better than to treat the message as an idle threat. In precisely 3 minutes his father would be at the security desk for the Athlete’s Village and approximately 3 minutes after that one of the security personnel would come barging into his room. 

At least he had made it back to his own room. Every room in the village was identical from the layout and furniture right through to the cheap print adorning the wall. Thankfully there were enough personal effects lying round that marked the space out as his own territory. The good luck card from Alan was in pride of place on the dresser, the grinning yellow smiley on the front a reminder of the blonde sibling who had become his biggest fan. The rather more sedate offerings from the rest of the family were arranged behind.

First things first though; he needed to buy some time. He picked his phone back up off the bedside unit and hit the speed dial button for his father. The call connected before the first ring had finished and Gordon winced slightly and the abruptness of the answer.

“Gordon, where are you? You were due out front ten minutes ago”

He tried to adopt a tone that suggested apologetic rather than hungover.

“Sorry Dad. I was in the shower and lost track of time.”

There was a slight humpf down the line which showed his father was annoyed but not currently inclined to launch into a full blown reprimand for his lateness. Gordon knew he was pressing his luck but he ploughed on.

“Um, one of the coaches wants see me quickly before I head out. I’ll only be another 20 minutes tops. I promise I’ll be with you as soon as possible.”

He closed the call before his father had time to protest. It didn’t sit right to lie but he really needed to buy some time to shower for real. At least he now had 20 minutes to get everything sorted out but the clock was most definitely ticking. Crisis one was averted, or at least delayed.

He turned to his bedfellow. He didn’t recognise her from swim camp so could only assume she was one of the gymnasts from the celebrations of the previous night. Finding her there was not a massive surprise, he had been to enough high level competitions to know that the concluding night often led to a release of tension and pent up adrenalin in more ways than one. The euphoria of success and, in the case of swimmers being in close proximity to barely covered bodies, led to various amounts of bed swapping once the medals were awarded. The coaches tended to turn a blind eye. It seemed like the gymnasts celebrated in a similar fashion.

“Mmm, a shower sounds good. I hear you’re quite talented in the water.” Her voice purred and the hand swirled lower down his chest. Gordon felt the rush of blood to his groin where it pooled in an embarrassing fashion.

Unlike the swimmers who tended to make their way back to their rooms of their own accord it seemed that the gymnasts, or at least this particular one, did not observe the same niceties. This was going to be awkward.

“Um, I’ve got to go and meet my family. You need to go.”

“That’s it, Gordon? You’re just throwing me out?” Her tone had turned from sultry to venomous in an instant. She evidently knew his name but he couldn’t honestly afford her the same courtesy. Sasha maybe, or perhaps Sarah, he really didn’t know. The last he remembered he had been getting close to the guy who competed in the parallel bars who had arms to die for and abs like a rack of eggs. Evidently last night had taken a different course. He wondered what had happened and whether he still had a chance with Mr Parallel Bars later that night.

He hung his head slightly, wishing the pounding behind his eyes would just stop. “Look, I really need you to go. I wouldn’t put it past my Dad to find his way up here and be waiting outside the door with a stopwatch.”

The dark eyes narrowed slightly and the lithe figure unfolded herself from under the duvet. She was clad in a soft grey longline tee-shirt and Gordon got the distinct impression that was all she was wearing. She bent neatly at the middle to scoop up the remainder of her clothes without bending at the knee. The tee-shirt rode up, exposing a pair of pert buttocks directly in front of Gordon. Definitely a gymnast and definitely not wearing anything else. She slid on a pair of joggers and shoes, each movement was smooth and elegant to the extreme. She turned as she reached the door and the look she shot Gordon could have killed but he was deliberately facing away, not meeting her eye.

With the room now his own Gordon rushed to get ready. A quick dunk under the shower woke him up but couldn’t wash away the pain of the hangover. At least the alcohol no longer seemed to be sweating out of his pores but he added a generous dab of cologne anyway. Fresh clothes followed. The celebration of the night before had evidently been rather heavy on the alcohol and the light through his window when he finally opened the curtains felt like it was burning his retinas. He dug through his kit bag and unearthed a battered pack of painkillers, a couple of tablets were thrown down his throat chased by a large glass of water. 

His eyes swept the room. The Athletes’ Village was meant to be off limits to anyone not competing but he wouldn’t put it past his father to use his influence to get a pass. Alan was eager to take in every element of the experience and a visit to Gordon’s room was probably on the kid’s bucket list despite it looking like nothing more than the poor relation of a cheap hotel room. The bottle of liquor was moved to the bottom of his kit bag ready to be given away later, the churning feeling in his stomach left him sorely tempted to sign the pledge and vow himself to a future life of total sobriety. 

A glint of foil wrappers in the waste bin caught his eye. At least him and his gymnast had played safe courtesy of the supplies left by the Olympic Committee in every room. Evidently the organisers of the Games were well aware of what athletes could get up to in their spare time with physical exertion not limited to the tracks and venues. He packaged up the detritus of his celebratory fumble to be disposed of in one of the bins well away from his room. Some parts of the Olympic experience did not need to be shared with little brothers, or the rest of his family for that matter.

He made a detour via the cafeteria to snag a carton of orange juice and a muesli bar from the breakfast buffet before heading for the exit of the Village. A pair of aviators shoved hastily over bleary eyes before he left the dim confines of the building completed his ensemble. Now he just needed to plaster on a cheery smile and get through a day with the family. 

He really hoped the painkillers started to do their job soon.

xoxoxox

Jeff stood at the entrance to the Athlete’s Village surrounded by four out of his five sons. The fifth was evidently still inside the compound and was running late. 

The minutes ticked by.

Jeff Tracy was not a man who liked to be kept waiting. His elder sons had soon learnt that tardiness was a trait that did not go unpunished. Each in their turn had tested the limits to their father’s patience and found that the line did not bend; lateness resulted in a swift loss of privileges. Having two phone calls divert to voicemail followed by the information that he was going to be kept waiting even longer would have seen Gordon grounded for at least a month had they been back at home. As it was, it was the last day of the family trip to the Games and the only one they would get to spend with Gordon so he gritted his teeth and locked the parental sternness deep inside.

It was Alan who spotted Gordon first, his eyes eagerly glued on the entrance door to Gordon’s block. The teen throbbed with excitement at seeing his hero of the hour. If the family had hoped that a week of watching swimming, plus a few other events when Gordon wasn’t competing, would dull the youth’s enthusiasm they were sorely mistaken.

Gordon winced slightly as Alan barrelled up to him, nearly sending the orange juice flying.

“So, can I see it then?”

Gordon frowned slightly behind his shades. The kid was far too cheerful for this time of the morning.

“Nice to see you too Alan. Now, see what?”

“Your medal. You did bring it down, right?”

“Sorry. I didn’t think carrying a hunk of gold around all day would be a good idea. It’s in the safe in my room.”

Alan’s face fell. His brother had just won a real life gold medal and to hear he wasn’t going to get a chance to see it was like finding out Christmas had been cancelled. You would have to have been of a different planet to not feel the disappointment radiating off him. Gordon’s protective nature kicked in.

“Tell you what. I’ll see if you can come up to my room later, before you go. I’ll even let you wear it.”

As though a switch had been flicked Alan was back into full blown excitable mode, flinging a barrage of questions at Gordon in between giving his own edited highlights of the trip. The energy radiated off him and Gordon tried to absorb some of the pure enthusiasm. Alan in a good mood could steamroller over any other emotions in the vicinity. He bounced. It was a trait that had pulled many a brother out of the depths of despondency in the past; none of them wanted to let the kid down. There was a natural instinct to protect their baby even if the baby was now shooting up in height and no longer the grubby toddler of the past.

By this point the others had started to congregate around Gordon, hanging back slightly until Alan had had his moment. The bond between the two youngest was clear to see and the elder siblings didn’t want to intrude on the reunion. Alan looked up to Gordon with barely concealed adoration and Gordon had an attitude that was almost paternal to the younger boy. 

Once Alan had paused for breath the others started stepping forward to offer their own congratulation in a mix of glowing words and hearty back slaps.

At last Jeff stepped forwards.

“You did good, Gordon. So, what did your coach have to say?” 

Jeff’s eyes were steely. Put on the spot Gordon dredged his mind for something convincing..

“He just wanted to let us know that there was no pool training for the rest of the games because water polo needs the slots but we still need to keep up with some gym work while we are here.”

“And that took twenty minutes?” The tone was one of barely disguised scepticism, accompanied by a raised eyebrow, and Gordon squirmed slightly. He decided to change the subject.

“Oh. I just wanted to thank you guys for all coming. It really meant a lot to have you up there on the balcony for every race. How on earth did you manage to get the same seats every time? I thought the tickets were a random allocation.”

“Not totally random.” John spoke quietly from the back of the group. “The algorithms were pretty easy to figure out.”

“You played the system?”

A nod and a slightly smug, self-satisfied smile.

For every single heat there had been a cluster of Tracys in the same place on the balcony. Left hand side, level with the end of the pool at the opposite end to the starting blocks. Knowing that they were all there to support him, in easy eye line from his starting position, had given Gordon strength before each race. No searching around needed, a quick glace up to the railing had been all he needed to help him get in the zone. To find out that John had manipulated the system to ensure they could always be found in those same seats meant a lot. 

Seeing the family in those particular seats had an extra level of poignancy for Gordon. From his earliest days of swimming lessons those were the seats his mother had always sat in to watch his class, often with John in tow as he was too young to be left at home. As lessons progressed to competitions she had kept to the routine and always sought out those same seats until that fateful turning point in their lives when she couldn’t. Evidently, under all the stresses of Harvard study, there was still a big brother that remembered those early days before Gordon had gained total mastery over the water and the reassurance he gained from knowing where to find a friendly face. It was a level of effort and consideration Gordon rarely encountered now from his plus one in the pecking order. 

“Thanks John. I mean it.”

“So what do you want to do now, golden boy? This is your day to celebrate although it looks like you might have done a bit of that already.” Scott ruffled Gordon’s hair in a way that did his tender head no favours. He had witnessed and partaken in his fair share of the morning after and Gordon’s shades were fooling no one. Gold medal or not, Scott had no compunctions about throwing his younger sibling under the metaphorical bus. He received a scowl in return. To Gordon’s eternal relief Jeff either didn’t pick up on the comment or was choosing to ignore it; he was not in the mood to be bawled out for underage drinking and the hangover was proving punishment enough.

“Maybe just some sightseeing. I’ve really not had a chance to see anything of the complex. Oh, and I want to eat something without having to check if the micronutrients fit with my plan. You cannot believe how bored I am of protein shakes and vitamin drinks.”

The family moved off. It might technically be Gordon’s day but Jeff was undoubtedly the one they all deferred to. Each brother circled their father like moons around a planet. It had been so long since they were last all together. 

Gordon was immensely grateful for Alan’s presence. The excitable pup filled in any awkward silences and kept their father’s direct attention off of Gordon. Even with the success of a gold medal win less than twenty-four hours behind him there was still an aura of disapproval at Gordon’s temerity for keeping everyone waiting although this gradually dissipated as the day wore on. 

Over lunch, a greasy burger of Gordon’s choosing that was so far removed from his usual meal plan as to be from a different galaxy, Jeff sat back and watched his five sons. He couldn’t remember the last time they were all in one room. Even Christmas was no longer a given what with Scott’s Air Force commitments. 

Age and circumstances had changed the dynamics but from oldest to youngest they were still brothers and the longer they spent in each other’s company the more Jeff saw glimpses of the children he remembered. There was certainly more laughter than he had heard for a long time. Alan stayed firmly attached to Gordon as though the last few weeks without him had been an eternity. 

None of them knew when next they would all be together again. The family would be flying home that night but Gordon needed to stay on a few more days until the closing ceremony. By the time he and the rest of Team USA returned Scott would be back with his squadron. 

For a few rare hours there was no school, work or training making their competing demands. No business meeting. No classes. No Air Force issuing orders. Just a family together, albeit one not used to spending time together any more. 

All too soon it was a family being ripped apart again by punishing schedules and varying commitments. As Gordon watched everyone head off to the airport without him the gut-wrenching pang of being an outsider hit him. He knew it was just circumstances that meant he was being left behind but for a moment he was left feeling very alone. He knew it was probably just exhaustion making him feel maudlin. He should be relishing the freedom of having a few days to himself rather than resenting his father for heading straight back to work. He shouldn’t be feeling jealous of his brothers getting to spend time together without him. He shouldn’t be worried if anyone was checking whether Alan was getting to bed at a reasonable time.

He headed back up to his room sorely tempted to drown his sorrows with the last of the liquor still hidden in his kit bag.


	6. Chapter 6

It didn’t take long for normality to return for Gordon. He had given one or two carefully selected interviews in the lull between his medal win and the closing ceremony of the Games but any requests by magazines had been vetoed by Jeff since his return stateside. Any approaches regarding sponsorship opportunities had been similarly turned away. Initially the reporters clamoured for the chance to speak to the elusive young star but in the face of continued rejections the requests tailed off. His obligations were decidedly minimal as he slipped from the public eye. 

With no school making its demands felt Gordon was able to concentrate fully on his swimming; the World Championships and a national competition were both on the horizon and gave him something to aim for. He often found himself heading out for an additional run or putting in more time at the gym, this was partly to keep in peak condition and partly to escape the oppressive atmosphere in the apartment. 

He had gone from being surrounded by the hustle and bustle of the Games with a team mate around every corner to home with its dwindling population. 

First Virgil had returned to Denver claiming he needed access to the technical facilities, then John had gone back to campus and finally Alan had been sent off to summer camp to spend time in the great outdoors. If the messages coming Gordon’s way were anything to go by Alan was finding outdoors to be too full of bugs and too lacking in games consoles to be considered great. 

Now it was just him and his father. Whenever they were in the apartment together he felt like he was under the microscope. Being judged. Being appraised. He tended to stay in his room to avoid the attention. With no one else around staying in his room was becoming a habit, even when Jeff was out at work.

He vaguely registered the click of the apartment door as his father returned but it was past dinner time and he had already eaten so he didn’t feel any need to emerge. His father would likely be reading files late into the night. He expected his contact to be limited to the standard ‘good night’ as he brushed his teeth before bed, he was therefore surprised when a sharp rap sounded on his door.

“Gordon. My study.”

The footsteps retreated down the corridor leaving no opportunity to ask questions and he couldn’t think of anything he had done to warrant such a summons. He also knew it didn’t do to keep his father waiting so he paused the film he was watching and made his way to the study.

The door was open so he went straight in. His father’s big desk faced the doorway and Jeff was already sat back down behind it by the time Gordon entered. He stepped up and patiently waited to be acknowledged, curious as to why he had been called for. 

“Gordon, I have to go out of town for a few days.”

“Ok.” 

“So you need to decide what you would rather do. You have two choices; either I can arrange for you to join Alan at summer camp or you can go and stay with Virgil.”

“Honestly, you don’t need to do that. I’ll be fine by myself for a few days.”

“You are not staying here alone,” Jeff’s voice was stern and intractable.

“I’m not a kid any more Dad.”

“Then maybe you should stop acting like one. It’s time you grew up and started planning for the future.”

The thought that his father didn’t trust him alone in the house for a few days stung, especially given the number of times he had been responsible for not only himself but Alan too when their father got held up at the office until late. He was seventeen, he had finished school and he had a gold medal. Apparently none of that was enough to afford him the privilege of staying home alone. The thought of being shipped off so his older brother could do babysitting duty was pretty bad but the idea of summer camp was much worse. Being surrounded by kids mostly Alan’s age and having to take part in enforced activities was not appealing. 

“What about my swimming?”

“I’ve already spoken to your coach. There are no major competitions for a few months so you can afford some fallow time.”

The thought that Jeff had bypassed him and gone straight to his coach was even more belittling. It was like being ten years old again with the schedule of events stuck to the fridge and Jeff marking off which ones he could do based on the availability of a chaperone. 

“And you might need to ease up on your swimming anyway. Now that high school is over you need to work out where you are headed in life.”

And there it was. The not so subtle reminder that his father didn’t consider swimming to be a viable career prospect. Even with an Olympic gold and a world record to his name, professional athlete was not on the list of Jeff Tracy approved jobs. Everything he had worked for just diminished and relegated to the status of hobby. That’s not to say that his father hadn’t been genuinely proud of his success so far but it was like he had reached the pinnacle and now it was time to move on. It was one thing to have an Olympian as a son but the next Games were four years away and there was no knowing if Gordon would maintain his position in the world rankings. World championships had their prestige in the sporting world but didn’t have the same gravitas as the Olympics to non-sporting folks.

Even if the uncertainty of future successes could be put aside Jeff had also made it abundantly clear that he disapproved of the selfishness of the sporting world. Athletic success didn’t improve the world beyond providing entertainment. It wasn’t a career that would make a difference. It wasn’t useful, and just lately usefulness had become an overriding theme in the Tracy household. 

“I’m waiting, Gordon. Which is it to be?”

He wanted to scream and shout but if there was one way Gordon was a Tracy through and through it was in his ability to keep his emotions contained in the face of adversity, or at least repressed until he was in a safe space. Only Alan was yet to learn the skill; his youngest sibling wore his heart on his sleeve and Gordon often admired him for the way he could express himself freely, even if it sometimes led to blazing rows with their patriarch. His broad shoulders slumped a little. It was a done deal that he was being sent away for the duration of his father’s business trip. He knew there was no point arguing and antagonising his father.

“Denver, please.” Gordon’s normally cheerful voice was carefully neutral, a testament to the feelings he was keeping in check. He wondered if he would ever be afforded the privilege of being treated like an adult or whether he would forever be a child in his father’s eyes; a person to be managed and directed rather than trusted as an individual.

Having received an answer Jeff considered the interview concluded and turned back to his tablet to book the required flight. He might have a private jet at his disposal but he would need that for his own trip. Gordon would be flying commercial, as usual. An early morning flight was soon arranged and Jeff was able to return to his work, scrolling through the multitude of files related to his latest project. He looked up to reach for his coffee and seemed surprised that Gordon was still stood in front of him.

“Go and pack, Gordon.”

Summarily dismissed Gordon returned to his room. Clothes and toiletries were thrown haphazardly into a bag. He took his anger out on the drawers of his dresser, yanking them out and slamming them shut. The clothes hangers in his closet rattled and tumbled to the floor as he yanked down shirts. He looked at his Team USA kit; the formal blazer and whites covered in a protective dust jacket next to the tracksuit worn poolside between heats. The uniform was a painful reminder of his achievement that already seemed to be forgotten by the father he tried so hard to please. The garments were thrown to the floor of the closet to lay in a crumpled heap on top of his shoes.

Just a few short weeks ago those two outfits had symbolised his achievements. Proof that, as far as America was concerned, he was worthy. He remembered the thrill of pulling on the garments for the first time, the cut of the blazer emphasising his broad chest and shoulders. They were his uniform. His battle dress. After the Games he had carefully hung them up as a reminder of everything he had worked for, a sign that all the sacrifices had been worth it. Now they screamed failure rather than success. Failure to live up the narrow ideals of his father. He kicked out at a trailing sleeve that had flopped over the threshold of the closet then slammed the door on the rumpled mess.

Gordon flung himself onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling. He knew he was acting the petulant teenager his father viewed him as but sometimes it was hard not to revert to type when you never had the opportunity to prove yourself to be anything different. Anger bubbled up inside him. Just because he wasn’t like the others with their perfect grades and traditional life choices it felt like he would never be allowed to make his own decisions. Even the career he had strived towards and made so many sacrifices for was being slowly taken away. How dare his father speak to his coach about training commitments. How dare he sideline the one talent Gordon possessed. In all other areas he was measured up and found wanting but the medal above his bed and the world record in the history books were irrefutable evidence that he could make his mark in the world and be an individual in his own right.

The seething injustice coloured Gordon’s dreams that night. His sleep was restless and more than once his legs became twisted in the sheets, dragging him back to wakefulness in order to free the constricting restraints. When the morning alarm marked the end of the night, disturbing his dozing form and forcing away the last vestiges of sleep Gordon felt distinctly unrefreshed. However, years of practice at taking himself to early morning swimming training meant he was able to resist the temptation to stay in bed and so he was ready, bag in hand, when the car arrived to take him to the airport. Evidently his father’s commitments were too heavy to allow him to perform this duty and Gordon was graced with only a brief goodbye before being handed into the custody of a driver.

xoxoxox

Denver was tiny compared to Los Angeles. It was still a sprawling metropolis compared to the backwater towns of Kansas but Gordon instantly felt more at home in the mid-western air. He felt like he could finally breathe again. He had never felt settled in Los Angeles with its inescapable traffic and permanent glow. A city that never slept. 

When he had first been told of the move to the coast he had been excited at the prospect of living so close to the ocean that held his fascination. It was an odd obsession for a boy brought up as far from the sea as it was possible to get but Gordon had always felt drawn to water in all its forms. The few coastal holidays they had managed were filled with happy memories of rock pooling, snorkelling and learning the dangers of his beautiful aquatic mistress but in Gordon’s eyes the Los Angeles waterfront was a shallow imitation of what the barrier between land and sea should be. The sculpted beaches filled with sculpted bodies held no appeal. After one visit shortly after arriving in the city Gordon never went down to the waterfront again.

Virgil was there to meet him in the airport arrival’s lounge. Dressed in his habitual plaid he was easy to spot. Gordon soon found himself relieved of his bag as Virgil swung it over one shoulder with ease. It wasn’t that Virgil thought him incapable, it was just the way he was. Brother or not, Gordon was his guest and carrying your guest’s bag was a courtesy that had been instilled in each of them from an early age. A brotherly arm was draped across his shoulders and he found himself drawn into a brief embrace before they walked companionably towards the taxi rank.

It didn’t take long to reach Virgil’s apartment which was situated a short stroll from campus. The campus itself was still eerily quiet, mostly populated by faculty and a few postgrads like Virgil who had stuck around to work on projects. Term, and the influx of undergraduates that came with it, was yet to start. The streets surrounding the campus were free of the term time hustle and bustle created by the transient student population and the area had a calm serenity that contrasted sharply to the buzzing city Gordon had recently left.

The apartment was the epitome of masculine design, each item of furniture or decoration a clear reflection of its occupant. There was an eclectic mix of high end items and junk store finds, set off by hand crafted pieces made by Virgil himself. Comfortable, functional and strong, the whole ensemble coordinated perfectly. Virgil’s habitat had grown organically over his few years of occupation, it was now as warm and friendly as its owner and a place that you couldn’t help but relax in.

It felt more homely than the Los Angeles apartment which always had an air of echoing emptiness. Jeff had wanted to ensure that his older boys had a space to come back to and call their own and with money no object the city pad he had procured was obscenely large for a place normally occupied by just three people. The executive styling added to the cold and impersonal air of the place. It was an environment where people co-existed rather than lived and the extra rooms for absent siblings only seemed to enhance the feeling of loneliness. It felt good to be in Denver rather than Los Angeles, even if the reason for the visit stung.

Gordon sat down on the couch, bouncing slightly to test its springiness. The apartment was a compact, one bedroomed affair and he knew the couch would be his bed for the next few nights. The sound of a coffee maker and the chink of mugs from the kitchen showed that Virgil still had his caffeine addiction and the warm aroma of good coffee was soon filling the space, adding to the general air of comfort. Before many minutes had passed his brother was back beside him and two brimming mugs sat steaming the coffee table 

“Hey, so you decided to come check out my school. It’s a great place here, you’ll love it. I can show you around all the labs and things while it’s still quiet, maybe introduce you to some of the faculty depending on what area you want to specialise in.”

Virgil’s enthusiasm was met with stunned bewilderment.

“Dad said you were looking at college, right?” he probed, tentatively. 

Evidently this trip wasn’t just about Gordon not being trusted at home. Even from afar his father was making his intentions clear and pushing his own agenda of what he expected of his sons. Virgil watched as the teenager in front of him stiffened, a defensive shell seeming to rise up around Gordon and a sullen look appeared across the features which had seemed so relaxed and at ease until that point. 

“No, Dad just didn’t want me staying home alone. Look, I’m sure it’s great for you but I’ve got no plans for college at all. In case you hadn’t noticed I’m not exactly college material.”

Witnessing the self-depreciation from his brother stung. Busy lives meant he hadn’t spent much time alone with Gordon in the last few years. The young man in front of him was clearly hurting and Virgil’s caring nature was screaming at him to make it better but he felt woefully ill-equipped to counsel the troubled teen. 

“I’m sure that’s not true. You’d be able to go to college if you wanted to. You’re smart; you were hardly at school the last two years and you still managed to graduate with good marks.”

Gordon turned sorrowful eyes on his brother, he had never been able to be angry with Virgil and fighting with the gentle giant didn’t come naturally. There was something about Virgil that reminded him of Mom; something that invited him to open up, safe in the knowledge that he wouldn’t be judged.

“And what if it’s not what I want? Sometimes it feels like I don’t have any say in my life. Dad wants me to stop swimming. Do you have any idea what that feels like?”

Truth be told, Virgil didn’t. He had only ever met encouragement for his plans, he had been supported and his passions had been indulged. Music lessons and art classes had co-existed with school, ensuring he had a therapeutic release from his more traditional studies. His desire to study engineering had been greeted with enthusiasm and a generous allowance. To hear that a brother was being expected to give up their passion was a surprise to him.

“I’m sure Dad only wants what’s best for you.”

“Yeah, it always comes down to what Dad wants.” There was a snort of derision. “But news flash Virgil, I’m not like the rest of you. I’m never going to get into Harvard or Yale or anywhere else Dad would approve of. And I don’t want to. I have one thing I’m good at and now that’s being taken away.”

“I’m sure that’s not true Gordo, there are lots of things you’re good at. Look, maybe college isn’t the right place for you but don’t sell yourself short. It sounds like you and Dad just need some space apart from each other for a bit. He’s got a lot on at the moment, there’s a big project in the pipeline and you know how focussed he can get when that happens. You know, you are always welcome here if you need some breathing space. And I promise, no campus tour unless you want it.”

“Thanks Virg. Maybe a break will do me good. It’s all just so tense back home.”

Gordon felt a heavy arm slung over his shoulders as he was drawn in to a hug that held more meaning than the brief embrace of greeting he had received earlier. Virgil had always been the most free of the siblings in showing his love physically. With Virgil moved out Gordon couldn’t remember the last time he had received a hug from anyone other than Alan and those were becoming more rare and awkward as the pair aged. 

His initial instinct was to push away but he didn’t want to hurt Virgil’s feelings. He could feel the beating of the larger man’s heart and he found the rhythm soothing. The tension he hadn’t even realised he was carrying began to slowly dissipate and he melted into the soft cotton of Virgil’s shirt. He took a few deep breaths to steady himself before slowly pushing himself out of the embrace. 

“Better?”

He nodded, not yet trusting himself to speak.

Gordon settled back and savoured the coffee. Perhaps the time in Denver wouldn’t be so bad after all.


	7. Chapter 7

Gordon was awake long before Virgil the following day. He quietly flicked through the TV channels, the volume down low, until he heard his brother moving around in the bedroom. Experience had taught him not to disturb Virgil’s slumber unless he fancied being in close proximity to a grumpy bear. 

As Virgil stumbled through his morning routine Gordon made himself useful fixing breakfast. He searched through cupboards and the fridge and was relieved to see that Virgil kept the apartment well stocked. Both brothers had a voracious appetite and a fast metabolism. By the time Virgil had finished his shower the eggs were in the pan and the coffee was brewing. When he emerged from his bedroom wearing yet another red checked shirt Gordon was just plating up.

“Hey, you can stay more often.” The appreciation was mumbled around a slice of toast from the large stack in the middle of the table. The portions were generous and the eggs were light and fluffy with just the right amount of seasoning. “When did you learn to cook?”

“Right around the time you and John moved out and me and Alan got shipped to the coast. Dad wasn’t often back in time for dinner.”

Virgil could sense there was a story to tell there but knew better than to press the issue, especially before he had had a second cup of coffee. During his own visit back home he had taken on the cooking without even thinking about it and hadn’t given a second thought as to who normally kept the household fed.

“I’ll cook tonight if you want” Gordon said, tucking into his own pile of eggs. “If you want pizza though you’ll have to ask Alan next time you’re back. That kid has a knack for dough. Just don’t touch his pasta, I’ve never known someone find simple boiling so hard.”

“Sounds great, you can show me what you can do. Maybe you’ll end up at catering college.”

Virgil’s joke fell flat as he sensed the shields rising up around Gordon. It seemed any mention of the future made his brother touchy as hell. He made a mental note to avoid all talk of future plans for the rest of Gordon’s stay, even if they were only made in jest. Unfortunately he still had his own work to do, troubled brother or not.

“So Gordon, I’ve got a lab slot today. I was going to take you in and show you around but perhaps engineering isn’t really your thing.”

Gordon shook his head gently.

“Hey, there’s a pool a couple of blocks over, it should be pretty quiet at the moment. How about you put yourself through your paces this morning then we can hang out in the afternoon once I’ve got back from campus.”

This sounded infinitely preferable to Gordon. The routine of swimming was ingrained now and he had thrown his kit into his bag as a matter of habit. The idea of watching Virgil doing…whatever it was Virgil did was not appealing, especially now knowing of his father’s ulterior motive for suggesting he spend time with one of his college based brothers.

With breakfast over and the dishes carefully washed the brothers departed and headed their separate ways; Gordon heading to the pool while Virgil made his way onto campus. 

Just a few short minutes later Gordon was stood, bag in hand, outside the pool building. It was shut. A noticed taped to the door proclaimed the apologies of the management for unscheduled maintenance and the assertion that the facilities should be open again the following day. 

Gordon dug out his phone and tried to call Virgil but the line connected straight through to voicemail. Virgil had warned him that there was a policy of no phones in the labs and workshops and it looked like he had already missed the opportunity to get hold of his sibling. He didn’t have a key to the apartment either. Apparently the spare set was with the letting agent, whoever that was, but even if he could find the right place there is no way they would just hand over the keys to him even if he did have the right surname. Instead of a morning burning off his frustrations in the water he was faced with the prospect of being stuck in a strange city, alone for the next few hours until Virgil resurfaced from his project.

He wandered back past the apartment and towards campus with the vague hope that he might bump into Virgil but deep down he knew that hope was futile. Shopping didn’t appeal and galleries and museums had never been his thing. He was destined for a boring morning.

His footsteps led him to a small square and he flopped down onto one of the hard, metal benches that lined the perimeter. He may as well wait here as anywhere. The wind was picking up and the enclosed space gave him some protection from the chill air that felt like it was blowing straight off the surrounding mountains. The clouds above looked dark and stormy and the day had turned unseasonably cold. The turbulent sky matched his mood. It felt like the entire world was conspiring to stop him from swimming. 

The first rain drops soon began to fall. Heavy, penetrating globules of water that hit the ground with force before bouncing back up again several inches. Within seconds the drops had turned into a raging downpour; the sort of rain that obscures your vision and soaks everything in an instant. The drumming sound of rain hitting concrete and roof slates filled Gordon’s ears with white noise as though attempting to drown out his very thoughts. He sat there as the stinging rain beat against his body, turning the exposed skin of his cheeks a raw pink. In some perverse way the discomfort was enjoyable. A penance for being the sole aquatic element in a family that revolved around the sky and the stars.

A hand landed on Gordon’s shoulder and broke through his reverie. He spun round on the bench to be confronted by a young man in military uniform gesturing to the store front behind him. He didn’t have much choice but to follow as the man picked up his bag and dashed back to the cover of the building.

As the door slammed shut behind him the noise of the storm became muted. Two men were in the room, one sat behind a desk while Gordon’s assailant and bag thief was shaking water off his cap. Both looked to be about 25 and were in contrasting uniforms.

“So, were you aiming on hypothermia or just trying to drown yourself out there?” his attacker come rescuer asked.

Gordon just shook his head mutely. His hair was slicked down against his head and the action caused trickles of water to drip down his cheeks. He unzipped his kit bag, pulled out a towel, and scruffed his hair back to some semblance of dryness.

“I was meant to go swimming but the pool was closed.”

“And swimming in that downpour looked like a better idea than going home?”

“I’m just visiting. I’m locked out until my brother gets back from class.”

“So how long do you need to wait?”

Gordon looked at his watch. “He’ll probably be another couple of hours.”

“Well you can’t go back out in that, you’re already shivering.” 

This was true. Stood there with his clothes plastered to his skin Gordon became uncomfortably aware of just how cold and wet his was. He tensed his core muscles in an attempt to still the shivers that made his body tremble. 

The man behind the desk stood up and headed over to a coffee pot that was set up in the corner of the room. He called over his shoulder to his companion. “Kid’s not getting ill on my watch. I’ll make some coffee and you can take him upstairs and stick his clothes in the dryer.”

Gordon felt like he had little choice but to follow the man through a door at the back of the office and up a narrow set of stairs. They were right about one thing; he couldn’t sit out in the rain for hours. 

The upstairs of the building was converted into a tiny flat and the two military personnel evidently lived up there, despite their conflicting services. There was a small living area with kitchenette built along one wall and a couple of extra doors that Gordon assumed led to a bathroom and bedrooms. Gordon soon found himself kitted out in a pair of dry sweatpants and a hoodie while his own sopping wet clothes were put through a drying cycle.

Back downstairs, with borrowed clothes and a hot coffee warming him through, Gordon began to take more notice of his surroundings and his temporary companions. Emblems of the World Security Patrol and its four component parts adorned the walls. Badges of the World Space Patrol, World Navy, World Army Air Force and Universal Secret Service all had their place. 

With nothing else to do until his clothes had finished drying Gordon settled in to make the best of it. The two staff seemed personable enough. One wore the uniform of the World Army while the other was clad in the WASP insignia of World Aquanaut Security Patrol, the submarine service of the World Navy. The pair were good natured with a touch of friendly inter-service rivalry. Coming from a military family himself Gordon was well versed in the different factions although he was more familiar with the United States Air Force that the various world forces on display.

“What is this place?”

“Joint Services Recruitment Office” came the response. “The World Security Patrol has offices all over the place. Good engineers are like gold dust which is why this office is so close to the campus. The different services staff it on rotation, two at a time.”

“So how did the pair of you end up here?” Gordon asked.

“Random allocation for me” answered the World Army representative, who Gordon soon learned was called Daniels.

“I’d just got back from an extended submarine tour and my C.O. thought I could do with some sunshine. Not much of that today though; I stayed drier under water” laughed Green, the WASP who had pulled him in from the storm. “It’s not too bad though, except for the land snails.”

“Hey!” Daniels launched a promotional stress ball at Green. “Less of the land snail you jumped up sardine. Thank goodness I’ve only got to put up with you for another eight weeks.”

The two men evidently got on well together. The traded insults were laced with laughter. It was a far cry from the attitude his eldest brother displayed while in uniform. Maybe it was the lack of officers to keep them in check or maybe Scott just didn’t have a sense of humour any more that accounted for the difference; the pair in front of him certainly weren’t dour or serious.

“I can’t see Scott being happy getting sent to one of these places.”

“Scott?”

“Eldest brother. He’s Air Force. He’s not happy unless he breaks mach three at least twice a week.”

This description was greeted by a double eye roll, evidently WASP and World Army were prepared to unite against a common enemy.

“That’s flyboys for you. I guess this isn’t the brother who locked you out?”

“Nope, Virgil’s here doing his postgrad at the moment. Some sort of engineering project. I’m only here for a few days while Dad is out of town.”

“So you like to swim, huh? Think you can swim 200 meters in under three minutes?”

“Stop trying to recruit the kid, Green.”

“Hey! It’s my job at the moment, of course I’m going to have a try.”

A competitive glint appeared in Gordon’s eye.

“Think I can do it in under three minutes?” he mused, cocking his head as though seriously considering the question. “I _know_ I can do it in one, forty-four point two.”

“Like hell you can. Jeez, that’s gotta be some kind of record.”

Gordon just smirked. Out of the pool and with clothes on he wasn’t particularly recognisable, his father’s policy of minimal contact with the media had seen to that. The pair in the recruiting office only knew his first name and had nothing to go on to connect him to the Olympics. He couldn’t help but feel a little bit boastful at the chance to show off his achievement.

“Yup. Butterfly. Set it out at the Games a few weeks back.”

“Wait? You’re Gordon _Tracy_?”

Gordon nodded.

“Bloody hell. The guys back at base aren’t gonna believe I had you in my recruiting office.”

Green was now actively goggling at him and even the more reserved Daniels was looking slightly thunderstruck.

“Told you to stop with the recruitment spiel. He’s got better things to do than mess about in your tin cans.”

“Those tin cans are highly specialised submarines I’ll have you know.”

The pair were back to the ribbing that seemed to characterise their working relationship. Gordon looked on enviously at the obvious camaraderie that existed despite their differing career paths. It showed a team spirit that he yearned for and the idea of locking himself away from his family at the bottom of the ocean was sounding pretty good at the moment. 

Before his brain had fully caught up with his mouth he blurted out “So what would I have to do other than swim to get my hands on one of those subs?”

Gordon left the recruitment office a few hours later with more than just dry clothes. Stuffed in the bottom of his kit bag was a print out of the scores from the aptitude and reaction tests he had sat there which showed he more than met the standard required for WASP. On top of these Green had placed an application form which, if submitted alongside the test results, would earn Gordon an invitation to a selection week. 

He had no real plans and sitting the tests had more been something to do to pass the time until Virgil was back. The military was Scott’s thing, not his, but Green had been animated and engaging in his description of the submarine service giving Gordon much food for thought. The picture he painted of service life was very different to the stories Scott brought home. Perhaps it was because WASP was a peacekeeping entity rather the aggressive environment of Scott’s fighter unit or perhaps it was the idea of exploring the oceans that appealed but something made him keep the forms.

Gordon shoved the whole idea to the back of his mind, burying it as deep as the paperwork that was hidden at the bottom of his kit bag.

xoxoxox

By the time Gordon made it back to the apartment Virgil was there to let him in.

“Good swim?” A mug of the ever-present coffee was placed in front of him before Virgil returned to the kitchen. Gordon picked up the mug and wandered over, leaning against the door frame to watch as his brother made a start on lunch.

“Pool was shut. Should be ok tomorrow though.”

“Shut? You found something else to do, right?” Virgil looked up from where he was buttering a stack of bread for sandwiches, feeling a gnawing guilt at his little brother being left alone in a strange city. The concern was clearly evident in his voice.

“It was fine. Even without a pool I’m perfectly capable of looking after myself for a few hours.”

“I know you are. Do you want tomatoes in with your ham? Or I’ve got mustard if you prefer.”

“Tomatoes please. You got any cheese?”

“Sure just grab the block out the fridge for me and I’ll add some in.”

The pair manoeuvred round each other in the small space, passing ingredients back and forth until a sizeable stack of sandwiches had been created. They carried them over to the table and settled down to eat.

“I’ve rearranged my lab slots so I don’t have to go back to campus for a few days” Virgil mumbled around a mouthful of bread. “I’ll still have to fit in some work here but it means you won’t be on your own so much.”

“You didn’t have to do that. I don’t need babysitting.”

“I didn’t do it because I think you need babysitting, I did it so we can actually spend some time together. Maybe watch some movies. You know, catch up a bit.”

Gordon looked for signs of an ulterior motive but instead saw only genuine honesty in Virgil’s expression. Now it was his turn to feel guilty for second guessing his brother’s intentions. Since when had he got so suspicious of everything? Probably since he found out this trip was yet another attempt by his father to mould him into the narrow ideals of what a good son should look like. 

“Sorry. I guess I’m still a bit on edge. Even half a continent away I still feel like Dad is watching and keeping an eye on me.”

Virgil swallowed his mouthful, all too aware that Jeff was rather more than half a continent away. At that very moment he knew their father was somewhere in the South Pacific making sure the island that had been chosen as the future family home was just right before completing the purchase.

“So, this afternoon?”

“Films sound good, just none of that art house stuff.” After his soaking he didn’t fancy heading out anywhere again that day but he also wasn’t in the mood for some high-brow foreign language film or any of Virgil’s other niche preferences. “You sure you don’t need to do any more work today.”

“Maybe just half an hour or so to transfer my notes from the lab but I can always do that later.”

“How about you get that done while I clean up from lunch and fix us some snacks for the film. I think I spotted some corn kernels when I was looking for the salt earlier. Can’t have a film without popcorn.”

“If you’re sure? Kernels are in the top cupboard. I don’t have a popcorn maker here so you’ll have to use the stove, are you ok with that?”

Gordon’s only response was to roll his eyes; of course he would be fine making popcorn on the stove. He started to clear the plates.

Virgil, free of chores, headed over to his desk. He rummaged through his bag and dug out the smart moleskin notebook that he liked to use for rough notes, he found it easier to doodle down sketches on paper than on his tablet. Soon he was completely engrossed in transposing figures and observations into his main files and cross referencing against the work he had done previously.

He was snapped back to the present by the arrival of Gordon on his elbow with a cup of coffee. Once he was in the zone he could completely lose track of his surroundings, he had almost forgotten his brother was even there. 

“We can save the films until tomorrow if you want to carry on.”

“No, it’s fine. Just give me a couple more minutes, I’m nearly done.”

Gordon picked up a file that was half covering a coaster to make space for the mug. One or two loose pages slipped free and made a bid for freedom. He carefully put down coffee then dived under the desk to retrieve the pages.

“Oh, sorry”, he took a look at the pages as he straightened up. “I didn’t realise your project was in aviation. That thing doesn’t look like it should be able to fly though, it’s like a bumble bee with those stupid stubby wings.” 

Virgil flustered slightly and snatched the pages out of Gordon’s hand with a little more force than was strictly necessary, hurriedly stuffing them back in the folder before shutting the whole bundle away in a drawer.

“Um, it’s not. I mean, that’s not my project. That’s just something I’m working on for, um, after. Please, I’d uh, appreciate it if you didn’t tell Dad what you’ve seen.”

Gordon quirked an eyebrow in surprise. Whatever Virgil was working on it looked like their dad was unlikely to approve, or at least that’s how it came across from Virgil’s reaction. The last time he had seen Virgil acting so guilty was when he tried to deny eating Scott’s Easter chocolate while still having the remnants smeared as evidence across his face.

“Chill, Dad and I don’t exactly have a ‘chats over dinner’ type relationship. So what’s the big deal? I thought I was the only one not toeing the parental line about future plans. Is he pressuring you to go into the Air Force like him and Scott?”

“It’s nothing like that. And anyway, I’m a pacifist, remember? I think Dad knows me better than to suggest the military of all things”

“Well at least he knows what one of us likes. So, is this some PhD topic you’re thinking of? Cos if it’s to do with planes I’m sure Dad will be fine with it. Unless you’re thinking of setting up solo as a competitor to Tracy Aviation, now that would make him pissed.”

“Look, can you just drop it, please?” 

Gordon was slightly taken aback by the abruptness, it normally took a lot to get their gentle giant riled up. It was almost impossible to have a fight with Virgil because it just wasn’t in his nature to be argumentative. That wasn’t to say that Virgil didn’t have strong opinions, it was just that he was normally so uncontroversial that it was hard to disagree with him. Perhaps he wasn’t the only one feeling the pressure to conform with their father’s ideals.

“I’m sorry. I promise I won’t tell Dad but, whatever it is you’re working on, don’t let him put you off. I’ll understand if you don’t want to talk about it but don’t let him dictate your life. No point both of us being miserable.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

Virgil felt guilty leaving Gordon with the wrong impression but it was easier to let him believe that Jeff disapproved of his future plans than try and explain away what was really on the cards. He made a mental note to take better care of the notes he had made. Of course it would all be much easier if the whole family knew what was going on but Jeff had been adamant; no sharing anything with anyone he hadn’t personally brought into the scheme, and that included younger brothers. 

By mutual consent the brothers treated the future as a banned topic of conversation and by the time Gordon was due to return to Los Angeles he was in a much calmer frame of mind. A few days without the burden of responsibilities or parental scrutiny had soothed his soul and left him feeling lighter and more relaxed than he had for a long time. 

Unfortunately all good things had to come to an end; he couldn’t hide out in Denver forever, tempting as it may be. As the plane headed back west Gordon found his mood sinking like the setting sun he was heading towards.


	8. Chapter 8

Gordon couldn’t even remember what the catalyst for the tongue-lashing had been this time, there were so many lately and they all seemed to blur together in the end. It felt like continuous needling; every time they talked it was just another chance for Jeff to nag at him to choose a suitable career route, just as long as it fitted his view of what he considered suitable and that definitely didn't include professional athlete. The latest lecture had come with an ultimatum; he could either get a job, start a Tracy Industries internship or join a college programme in the spring intake. If he didn’t then his allowance would be cut off. 

It didn’t feel like much of a choice. All he really wanted to do was swim but for that he needed money. Any bridges between himself and potential sponsors had been burned when he didn’t take up their offers straight after the Olympics; opportunities were few and far between and without some sort of financial backing Gordon knew he wouldn’t have the means to survive for long. Without his allowance to bankroll his continued training he may as well hang up his towel permanently.

He definitely couldn't stand the thought of starting an internship where he'd be forever under the watchful eye of his father, living in the same house was bad enough at the moment. He knew he didn't have the same business acumen as his father or the book smarts of his older brothers; he'd never be able to hold his own within the business and he could already imagine the whispers that would follow him around the office, judging him as just another rich son living off his family name who didn't deserve the job. He knew himself better than that. Being locked up in an office for upwards of 10 hours a day with no chance to work off his excess of physical energy with exercise, he'd explode. Something would snap, probably his sanity.

As for continuing down the education route Virgil had been a good sounding board about further studies but college still didn’t feel like the right place for him. If worst came to the worst he would find a course somewhere, maybe studying ecology or marine biology wouldn't be so bad. The idea of moving out and setting up in his own little apartment like Virgil and John had and having the freedom to live outside of his father’s shadow was certainly appealing. He knew though that when it came to school he would always be compared to his siblings, his father always managed to shoehorn in a remark about just how well his brothers were doing. Although conversation was perhaps a generous description of the one-sided lectures that seemed to occur whenever Gordon and Jeff were in the same room together for any length of time. No, school would be a last resort rather than his first choice.

Yet again it was his father’s way or the highway.

The grip on his temper wavered as he left the study and by the time he reached the sanctuary of his bedroom his frustration had risen up enough for the door to be closed behind him with a slam. It didn’t make him feel any better. Once again he had tried to talk to his Dad, to explore the option of maybe taking even just one year out to focus on his sport; plenty of people took a gap year after all. Once again it had turned into another lecture about finding something useful to do with his life. It had taken all his iron willed control, learned the hard way from years of harsh words and tough love from his coaches, not to bite back. 

Before he had even registered what he was doing the application pack for WASP was out of its hiding place at the back of a drawer and in his hand. He smoothed out the worst of the creases and stared at the words; World Aquanaut Security Patrol. He hadn’t given it much thought since his visit to Denver but now the idea was filling his brain with a buzzing reminiscent of the insect in the emblem. The forms signified an opportunity to live an independent life away from the control of his father and out of the shadows of his brothers. 

Scanning over the questions on the forms he spotted one major problem; you couldn’t join the submarine service as a minor and he wouldn’t turn 18 until February, however, you could attend junior ranks selection aged 17 as long as you had parental permission. Permission he was unwilling to seek. He had no reason to suppose that his father would refuse, after all the military was an accepted path for a Tracy, but his judgement was clouded by anger and resentment. One trait he shared with his father was independence, if he could complete something without relying on others he would. He had resolved to choose his own way and he was not willing to ask his father for anything, not even a signature.

Gordon took a steadying breath, scrawled ‘J. Tracy’ onto the bottom line, and stuffed the forms into an envelope.

There was no going back now, he'd done it, he'd made a decision for himself, and it felt amazing. This could be the start of the rest of his life. A life away from the father that would never, or perhaps could never understand him. Endless possibilities stretched away before him and Gordon found himself glowing inside, fuelled by his secret and the opportunities it offered.

xoxoxox 

Within a few days he had a response in his hand. The pack in the mailbox was reassuringly thick but he still opened it with some trepidation, his breath held; if it was outside the realm of swimming he always found himself braced for disappointment. He needn't have worried though, his aptitude test results and high school certificates had been more than sufficient to get him over the first hurdle. His initial application had been accepted and the pack contained details of a selection course he was expected to attend. 

Despite the initial anger behind his application having burned out Gordon was not one to back down on a challenge. He held the proof right there in his hands, he was wanted; someone had seen his potential and it felt great. He could just imagine the look on his father’s face when he announced that he no longer needed his help and was heading off to pilot submarines instead. Of course he wouldn’t dare go so far as to actually tell his father exactly where he could stick that TI internship but it was fun to imagine. 

The next stage in the journey though wouldn’t be so fun. The selection course was happening in the far north of the state and took place over several days. It wasn’t something he could just pop out to while Jeff was at work. He wasn’t beyond a bit of deception by omission but he had never been comfortable with outright lying, honesty was yet another Tracy trait that was etched into his DNA. Unfortunately he could see no other way to gain a cover story. The fact that he had to drag the brother into it who had been nothing but supportive recently made it all the more painful. 

He picked up the phone and prepared to put the next phase of his plan into action.

“Hey Virg.”

“Hey yourself. Now what are you after?”

“I resent that. I don’t only call you when I want something. Can’t one brother call another for a friendly chat.”

“They can, but you’ve got that look you always get before you ask a favour.”

“I do not have a look.”

“You so do. Now spit it out, I’ve got class soon.”

The chestnut gaze appraising Gordon from the call screen was holding back the twinkle of a laugh. It was true that Gordon was a fairly open book to him and he couldn’t resist teasing just a little bit. He had a knack for reading the moods of his brothers, even those that were an enigma to others in the family. Call it creative intuition. Also, any chats were reserved for the evenings when each of them had finished with class and training so a morning call in itself was a good indication that Gordon had a pressing question.

“Fine, can I come up and stay with you again for a few days?”

“Sure, you know you’re always welcome here. Feeling the need to escape the old man again?”

Gordon nodded. He hated lying to Virgil but he needed an excuse to leave town. He rechecked the dates on the sheaf of papers, his selection course details, carefully kept out of the field of vision of the camera and made arrangements for a trip to Denver.

That evening Gordon approached the study and knocked on the door with more confidence than he felt inside. He heard the shuffling of files being closed and by the time he was granted permission to enter the desk was empty and Jeff’s screen was blank. 

Jeff couldn’t deny that he was annoyed at the intrusion, it felt like his conversations with Gordon were going round in a never ending loop and he could ill afford the time to deal with yet another futile argument. However, it was unusual for Gordon to actively seek him out so he cleared his desk and bade him enter.

“Yes, Gordon? What is it?” He turned steely eyes on his son, expecting to be presented with a request for new equipment or notification of another competition.

“I’d like to go back to Denver for a few days please. Would you mind booking the flights?” 

“Denver?” the request was not one he had anticipated. “Is Virgil ok with you visiting?”

Gordon nodded. “Here are the dates, I’ve already checked and Virg is happy for me to stay. As long as you're ok with it, that is.” He withdrew a piece of paper from his pocket with the flight details on and placed it on the desk. 

Jeff picked it up and studied the slip of paper in silence. Part of him wanted to insist on something in return but for once there was nothing unreasonable in Gordon’s request and he was having to learn that his fourth son needed handling differently to the others. Despite the small age gap between them Gordon was most definitely not John who viewed the word through the eyes of a scientist and would happily counterbalance an action with an appropriate reaction. If anything having Gordon out of the way for a few days would do him and favour and allow him to move his project forward. It wouldn’t be long before the school term started again signalling Alan's return from summer camp and Jeff’s obligations tied him firmly to LA. He mentally rearranged his diary, oblivious to the growing impatience of the teen in front of him.

“So, can I go?” Gordon couldn’t contain himself any longer.

“Sure, if Virgil is sure it won’t disrupt his studies.”

“It won’t, I did check and he’s honestly fine with me being there,” Gordon played his trump card “University of Denver has an open day scheduled for then.” It wasn’t a lie, Gordon reflected, there really was an open day he just had no intention of going to it.

“Fine, leave it with me. I’ll book the flights for you.”

He dismissed Gordon and took a moment to pause. If nothing else the burgeoning friendship between his second and fourth sons was to be encouraged. Virgil was a steady and calming influence and Gordon always seemed less abrasive after talking to the quiet engineer. He had been finding Gordon an increasing trial on his patience, his attempts to steer him towards a suitable future seemed to be falling on deaf ears. His suggestions were usually met with stony silence but on occasion tempers could flare on both sides of the table. The latest incident had resulted in him threatening to remove Gordon’s allowance; he wasn’t proud of his actions but he was prepared to follow through if necessary. He hoped this trip marked a turning point for them. A sign that Gordon was finally taking responsibility and giving his future options some serious thought.

xoxoxox

Gordon got out of the car at the airport drop off point and waited politely for the driver to hand him his kit bag from the trunk. For once his father’s predictability in sending him in one of the company vehicles made his plan that little bit easier to pull off. He thanked the driver then watched the car pull away before turning and entering the terminal building.

Rather than heading to the counters to check in he headed to the airline information desk.

“How can I help you, sir?"

Gordon swallowed slightly then flashed a confident smile. If there were no available seats this would be the point where his plan fell apart.

“I’d like to change the destination on my ticket please.”

“Certainly; as long as the new flight has availability. You will also be liable for any difference in ticket price and an administration fee. Now, what are the details of the journey?”

Gordon handed across the details of the flights he wanted and waited nervously while the ticket agent called up the information. Ten minutes and fifty dollars later and the tickets for Denver had been replaced with new ones for Marineville. 

Grabbing a juice from a nearby cafe he settled down to wait for his call for boarding. He knew he ought to call Virgil but every time he pulled out his phone a wave of guilt washed over him. He took another sip of juice to settle his stomach. Eventually though he couldn’t put it off any longer, the flight for Denver would be departing soon and he knew time was running out if he was to make this convincing. He didn’t want to lie to Virgil but neither could he let him in on the plan, his brother's morals would gnaw away at him and likely have him spilling everything to their father. Much better not to be reliant on others to keep his secrets. He found a quiet corner and made sure he kept the video screen off before spinning a tale that he was grounded and no longer able to make the trip.

To his immense relief Virgil bought the story without too many questions. He had to firmly turn down his brother’s offer to intercede, typical Virgil trying to be defender of the wounded. Gordon made his brother give a firm promise not to get involved before closing the call.

As far as Virgil was concerned he was still in LA while his father believed he was in Denver, Gordon was therefore free for a few days. As the final call for boarding rang out across the tannoy system he headed for the gate and the flight that would take him up the coast towards the chance at a new future.


	9. Chapter 9

Gordon fell into line amongst the other hopefuls. For the next few days he wasn’t Gordon Tracy, Olympian and heir to one of the largest fortunes in America, he was Number 14 and the anonymity suited him just fine. The elastic armband around his bicep was the sole identifier to distinguish him from the other candidates as the assessors marked down their observations. Only the course leader had the information that linked names to numbers; each stage of selection was kept separate to avoid bias. 

“Atten...shun!”

The command was barked out by the officer placed in charge of his group and Gordon found himself jumping to the alert and snapping his feet together automatically. Evidently something had remained buried deep in his memory from all the times watching Scott being taught drill by their father or practicing out in the yard in Kansas all those years ago. The rest of the group also snapped to attention with varying degrees of success.

“Group C, your first test is pool fitness. You have two minutes to fetch your swimming kit and fall back into line. Go!”

There was a mad scramble towards the door of their temporary accommodation as Gordon and the other potential recruits allocated to group C raced to retrieve their kit from their bunks. They had barely been on base for an hour but had already learnt that failure to meet a time limit or just being last to complete a task would result in being given punishment press ups. By the time they had reassembled groups A and B were nowhere to be seen, evidently separated off to undertake one of the other selection tests.

As they marched across the base to the pool Gordon couldn’t help but feel slightly pleased that his group was getting to swim first. This was his natural environment and he justifiably had every confidence in his own abilities. It would also give him a good chance to stretch out his muscles after sitting around in the airport and then being cramped in an airline seat; domestic flights were always taken in coach class for a Tracy son travelling solo.

Once within the pool building more orders were barked giving a time limit to get changed. Gordon quickly found a space on the bench and started stripping. Some of the other recruits seemed a little uncomfortable about changing in the communal space but Gordon figured that privacy would often be hard to come by within the submarine service and now was not the time to be worried about modesty. After years of completing the action several times a week he could be in his kit almost as quickly as he could swim 200m and he was one of the first ready. 

He snapped on his sunshine yellow swimming cap drawing a few strange looks but Gordon shrugged them off; so what if only a couple of candidates in his group were wearing them? To Gordon the cap was just a standard part of his kit, however he was glad he had decided to leave his Team USA branded items at home and opt for his plain training set; there was no need to draw more attention to himself than was strictly necessary.

Out on the poolside the elastic armbands were replaced by numbered stickers slapped on shoulder and thigh. From the way the sticker pulled tightly at the skin Gordon just knew that ripping it off later would be a painful experience. Once numbers had been applied everyone lined up expectantly, awaiting further orders.

“Right, I want two circuits of the pool as warm up. No cutting the corners. No touching the wall. Do you understand?”

“Yes Sir!” the chorus of voices responded in unison. 

“Into the water, in number order. Go!”

One by one the men allocated to group C were counted into the water to complete their circuits around the perimeter of the pool. The pace was frustratingly slow for the Olympian whose number placed him towards the rear of the pack and it took a lot of self control not to stretch out and overtake those ahead of him. 

The slow pace allowed Gordon plenty of opportunity to look around the facility. WASP evidently invested in its sporting areas for the pool itself was up to Olympic standards even if the viewing and changing areas were a little more basic than Gordon had encountered at some of his competitions. If he was given the opportunity to continue his swimming training, and it wasn’t unheard of to encounter military participants released for competitions, he would have no complaints about the standard of the Marineville pool. Unfortunately his appraisal of the facilities nearly earned him a kick in the face, he hadn’t realised how close he had got to the swimmer in front and had to drop his pace yet again to maintain some distance. For him the actual tests and the chance to stretch out his limbs couldn’t come soon enough. 

With warm-up over the first eight swimmers were allocated their lanes. Gordon watched the action even more closely than the assessors, critiquing the style of others was all part of his ingrained training and he winced at some of the sloppy dives and mangled turns. Still, the tests were about meeting a minimum standard rather than being competition ready.

Soon enough it was time for swimmers 9 through to 16 to claim a lane. It didn’t escape Gordon’s notice that his number placed him in lane six and the coincidence struck him as lucky. If you had asked him just a few months ago what his favourite lane was he would have promptly answered four but after his Olympic success he has developed a soft spot for his current position, after all it had been good enough to earn him gold and a world record. He adjusted his goggles and wiggled his toes on the edge of the pool, he would have preferred to use a starting block but he could adapt.

The sound of the whistle had him launching into the water in a clean dive. There had been no stipulations on the stroke to be used and Gordon automatically found himself using his preferred butterfly, unaware of the raised eyebrows this was causing among the onlookers; his rejection of freestyle making him stick out almost as much as the yellow hat. That and the fact that he left the other candidates in his wake. He shot through the water, powerful muscles propelling him towards the finish at a rate that far exceeded expectations.

Less than 2 minutes later and Gordon had completed his fourth lap and finished the test. He had taken it easy, or at least he thought he had until he turned and realised the next nearest swimmer was almost a full lap behind him. He returned bemused stares with a shrug and a smile before placing his hands on the poolside and launching himself out to sit on the edge and wait for the others to finish.

The remainder of the pool tests passed in much the same fashion with Gordon easily outstripping his cohort. He could swim faster, dive further and hold his breath for longer than any of the others. His techniques were sharp and in the water he moved with a strength and grace that were enviable. Even skills like casualty towing, which wasn’t part of his usual repertoire, came naturally to him and he aced the tests with ease. The assessors scribbled some hurried notes on their pads; when it came to the water based activities at least candidate 14 was marking himself out as someone to watch.

xoxoxox

The first day drew to a close and Gordon was thankful when his group were released to the freedom of their dormitory. The pool session had been swiftly followed by a run then a drill lesson in one of the large parade squares dotted around the base. His muscles were weary and clearly grumbling at the lack of deep stretching after his swim but he was in a better shape than many in the room. WASP only accepted the very best to join its ranks and the selection tests were designed to weed out those not up to standard. Already three beds in his room were empty after their allocated occupants had withdrawn, either having had a change of heart or to avoid the shame of being rejected at the end of the course having already failed too many of the test elements. 

Tempting as it was to just flop down onto his bunk Gordon knew from painful experience that he would regret it the following day. He settled himself on an empty patch of floor and started running through some yoga poses to try and work out the tension in his back and legs. Just because the instructors hadn’t given them much opportunity to stretch didn’t give him the excuse to neglect his body. It also gave him something productive to do while waiting for his turn in the showers.

His activities drew some curious looks and half-sniggered comments from the others in the room but he zoned out and ignored them, instead focussing on his form until the showers came free. He didn’t have long to wait, two showers came free at the same time and both he and Number 13 grabbed their towels and headed through to the wash rooms.

He stripped down to his shorts and picked experimentally at the stickers left in place after the pool session, the glue was strong and part of him was tempted to leave them except the edges were just beginning to lift and annoy him. He gritted his teeth, pinched the loosest corner and ripped back sharply. He swiftly repeated the action on the second sticker then rubbed briskly at the angry red patches left on his skin.

“That looked painful. Not too sure I want to do that to myself”

He looked up, met the eyes of Number 13 and grinned.

“It’s just like pulling off a band-aid. Nothing to it.” 

“Rather you than me. I think I'll try and get mine in the shower.”

They went their separate ways into the empty cubicles and Gordon turned the shower up high. The accommodation might be spartan but he was glad the water was hot and plentiful. The powerful drops blasted away the sweat and chlorine that had built up on his skin and he turned his face into the stinging stream. Much as he would have liked to stand there for longer he knew others were waiting their turn and it wouldn't be fair to hang around. The temptation was strong but he hadn’t been impressed by the amount of time some candidates had taken and it wasn’t fair to keep the last few waiting longer than they had to. 

All too soon he was back in the chilly dorm room, hauling himself onto the bunk that had been marked out as his. Eight sets of bunk beds lined the room, with thirteen of the individual beds now filled. He wondered how many more gaps would appear as the selection course progressed. Murmurs of conversation broke out around the room as the participants made use of the first real chance they had to get to know each other since arriving. The instructors had kept them busy all afternoon and unnecessary chatter during the tasks had been swiftly quelled by punishment press ups, but now, with no instructors around, the candidates could speak more freely.

Gordon lay back and listened. It was the usual first-night whispers he remembered from some of his swim camps; name, city but unsurprisingly not their favourite distance and stroke. The introductions travelled around the room; it seemed Marineville saw applicants from the west coast right through to the central states. Gordon knew it would soon be his turn and he resolved to say as little as possible, he was enjoying being just another person in the crowd.

“So what about you 14?”

“Gordon, I'm from LA.” 

If he thought he was going to be able to get away with the bare minimum he was sorely mistaken.

“So what were you doing before you decided to try out for WASP? You're built like a tank and you swim like a fish. You some personal trainer or something?”

“Me? Uh, I've just high finished school. I do swim competitively though.”

Thankfully the candidate doing the questioning latched on more to the school part than the swimming.

“Only just left school? You don't act like some kid, I thought you were at least 20, maybe 22.”

“Nope, only 17.”

“Jeez, that makes you the baby of the group. So what do your family think of you heading off to sea first chance you get?”

Thankfully Gordon was spared answering by a bellow from the doorway.

“This is a military base, not a holiday camp. If you lot have enough energy to gossip you obviously aren't working hard enough. Now if I hear another sound from this room I will have you outside running laps until you drop. Do you understand me?”

A chorus of “Yes, Sir!” rang out before the room descended into total silence.

Gordon rolled over, wondering what challenges tomorrow would bring.

xoxoxox

The second day of selection started with the sound of drums at daybreak. Sleepy heads were raised in confusion. Others who were quicker on the uptake, Gordon included, leapt from their beds and started throwing on clothes. He was glad he hadn’t skimped on the stretches the night before, some of his contemporaries were looking decidedly stiff after the exertions of the previous day.

The now familiar sound of shouting filled the room.

“Up! Up! Sports kit on and outside for PT before breakfast. Move!”

Gordon was no stranger to early morning training. As the first beats had sounded from the speakers in the corners of the room he had been on his feet, all shreds of sleep disappearing in an instant. It was an enviable skill and obviously not one possessed by all in the room. To the observing instructor in the doorway Number 14 shone through yet again as one of the stronger candidates.

There was no denying that WASP selection was a taxing experience. The group was whisked from one set of tests to another. If it wasn’t their bodies being tested it was their minds as they sat exam papers or explored leadership scenarios. By lunch time another member of his group had dropped out, and judging by the numbers sitting down to eat groups A and B were now similarly depleted. Even those that lasted the distance had no guarantee they would be accepted to wear the prestigious grey uniform; the standards might have an absolute minimum but it had been made clear that if more met the standard than was needed then only the very best would be made an offer.

While many were struggling Gordon was relishing the challenge. It was as though he had found his niche. Even the written tests, which he had approached with some trepidation, had been well within his comfort zone which helped his confidence soar. Theories and concepts which had seemed so abstract at school seemed to make more sense when applied to a real life scenario and for once in his life Gordon walked away from a classroom without feeling a failure.

After lunch group C were to take their turn on the obstacle course, a gruelling array of beams, walls and aerial wires that would require both strength and agility to navigate. To Gordon the course looked like a massive playground and he couldn’t help but grin at the prospect.

The instructors divided the group into smaller teams of four and Gordon’s team set off onto the course first at the sound of the whistle. 

The group raced along, leaping over pits using rope swings and stepping along narrow beams as quickly as their balance allowed, each candidate aiming to be the first to reach and therefore clear each piece of equipment. It was every man for himself. That was until they were brought up short by a 10 foot wall. Number 6, who was keen to keep his early lead, took a running jump at the obstacle. His fingers caught the top edge but he was unable to keep a good enough grip to climb over and he soon fell back down again.

To Gordon the solution was obvious; it was quickly becoming apparent to him that this test was different to those that had gone before and if they were to have any hope of making it through successfully then teamwork would have to be the order of the day. 

“Look, if any of us are to stand a chance of getting through this course we are going to have to work together.”

Number 6, after a second failed leap, was quick to agree. Numbers 3 and 10, arriving a moment later, could also see sense in the plan. 

“Sure. So how are we going to tackle this one.”

Three sets of eyes turned to Gordon expectantly. Having been the one to voice the idea the others were evidently expecting him to come up with the solution. He thought for a moment then turned and planted his back against the wall, bending his knees to make a step.

“6, you’re tallest, you go first. Use me as a ladder to get up but stay on top of the wall, don’t drop down the other side. You can then help up 3 and 10. Once you’re all on top you can reach back down and haul me over. Got it?”

There were three nods of agreement. 

Gordon braced himself as first his legs then his shoulders were used as steps. Once. Twice. A third time. His clothes became marked with muddy footprints but he didn’t care, the plan was working and he was soon being bodily lifted up and over the obstacle by the team he had helped up first.

Having made the decision to work together the group soon found themselves speeding through the course. Many obstacles, while able to be attempted solo, could be cleared much quicker with careful cooperation and support; Gordon had evidently read the situation correctly. 

Despite being the youngest the others seemed happy to defer to him as their leader and Gordon found himself naturally assuming command of the team. He directed the group to make the best use of their combined talents. Before long the band of four found themselves at the far end of the course, just one final obstacle to navigate their way over then the run for home.

Using their now tried and tested method the team were soon atop the the final wall despite it being the biggest yet. From here they could look back over the whole course, the other candidates and their assessors were indistinct figures in the distance.

“Wonder who that is come to visit? Probably from the World Navy. Best make sure we put on a good show, they might be important.”

From his lofty vantage point Gordon looked back towards the start point. Number 6 was right, someone new had joined the cluster of watching assessors, the dark blue of their uniform a stark contrast to WASP grey.

“No idea. Come on, let's finish this as a team.”

The group jumped down from the final obstacle and began the mad sprint back to the beginning of the course and their waiting assessors. As they closed the gap between themselves and the waiting officers, making sure no one was left behind, the mystery figure resolved itself into a familiar form for Gordon 

Recognition led first to confusion and then to anger.

Scott.


	10. Chapter 10

Jeff dialled his son’s number for a third time that day and yet again received nothing but a voicemail message. It looked like Gordon was once more going to be the cause of a tension headache for him. He tossed his phone down and dropped his head into his hand, rubbing his temples in an attempt to stave it off. When he did finally get through to Gordon he would have to have severe words about the importance of staying in contact. Yesterday he had been prepared to overlook the lack of a phone call to check in at the end of his journey, one of the few courtesies he expected when his sons, but to still be out of reach a day later was not acceptable. None of the others would have shown such a lack of respect for the rules but Gordon seemed determined to push the boundaries.

He glanced at the papers on his desk, reading through the details once again. It really was a very generous offer and rather more than he felt Gordon deserved, truth be told, given the boy’s current lack of enthusiasm for anything other than swimming. Wilbur Dandridge had thrown Jeff a lifeline that would give Gordon a solid start in a prestigious internship at his company, Gazelle Automations. The offer meant Gordon would need to move to New York but Jeff was more than willing to finance an apartment, just as he had for the others for their college studies. 

Ever since college Jeff and Wilbur Dandridge had been firm friends, making a point of checking in every few months and keeping up to date with each others lives. Jeff hadn't meant to burden his friend with his family woes but he supposed it had been inevitable, Wilbur had always been the observant type and an empathetic listener. Wilbur seemed to have this innate ability to sense the needs of others, something that helped him in his work and allowed him to design products that people sometimes hadn’t even realised they needed. On this occasion he had come up with the offer of an internship for Gordon. The only problem was Wilbur needed a decision imminently and for that Jeff needed to to get an answer from Gordon.

After three failed calls it was obvious he wasn’t going to have any luck getting hold of Gordon directly, he would have to take a different approach to track down the cause of his frustrations. He picked up his phone again and hit speed dial 2. This time the phone connected almost immediately, Virgil answering before the third ring had finished.

“Hi Dad, how are you?” 

“Fine, fine” he said impatiently. “I just need to speak to Gordon, can you put him on.” 

“Gordon?” There was a slight pause. “He’s not here.”

“Well when he gets back from wherever he's hiding, tell him to call me immediately. And get him to charge his damn phone.”

"Why would he be here? He’s grounded, isn’t he? He told me he wasn’t allowed to come.”

This time it was Jeff’s turn to pause as his son’s words sank in. Just the day before he had watched Gordon leave for the airport, bag in hand, ostensibly heading off for a few days in Denver. Now it would appear that same son had never arrived. He hadn’t grounded him. He'd watched him leave for the airport where the driver had reported that he'd dropped Gordon off outside, only leaving once Gordon was inside the terminal building as per normal. He was supposed to be in Denver, but it appeared that his son had never arrived. 

“When did he tell you this?”

“Yesterday morning. Dad, what’s going on? Isn’t Gordon there with you?”

“No, and I don’t know where he is. Look, if he gets in touch with you just let me know.”

“Of course. And Dad, if you find him first please tell me. This isn’t like him” the worry in Virgil’s voice was clearly evident.

“Of course I will. Don’t worry, we’ll find him.”

Jeff hung up, his stomach churning. In the space of a few minutes he had gone from angry to worried sick. 

Of all his sons he had always found Gordon the most challenging but he would never have predicted the teen would run away. There was no denying that relations had become increasingly strained but he hadn’t realised it had gotten that bad. 

He looked at the clock; his son had been missing for just over twenty-four hours but with no evidence of foul play the police probably wouldn't be interested, Gordon was nearly an adult after all. Well, just because the official authorities wouldn’t do anything yet didn’t mean he had to sit passively by. For all the frustrations he caused, all the arguments and heartache, Gordon was still his son. To the outside world he was a hard headed business man, distinguished astronaut and accomplished military leader. Few people got to see the other side to him, the paternal side, it was part of the reason why he kept his children out of the media. He wasn’t prepared to just wait for yet more time to pass, he would have to do some investigating himself. 

Jeff logged in to his Air Terrainean account. He knew Gordon had made it to the airport but he had to have gone somewhere. By checking to see if his ticket had been used he would know if they needed to search Denver or there in Los Angeles. When the travel history screen finally loaded the word on the screen left him reeling.

Marineville.

It might be the home of a different force to that in which he had served in but Marineville was famous as the largest WASP base on the western seaboard. it was a military town with nothing else for miles around; if Gordon had boarded a flight for Marineville then there could only be one intended destination. It was time to make some more phone calls.

xoxoxox

Commander Shore looked up from his screen in surprise as the phone on the corner of his desk rang, the sharp trill cutting through his concentration. Calls themselves were not unusual but most of them came through the internal switchboard system, even his own daughter was unable to reach him directly but the distinctive ring indicated an outside line. Only a handful of people in the world had this number and he wasn’t expecting a call from any of them.

“This is Commander Shore” he greeted the caller.

“Colonel Jeff Tracy, Commander. I believe you have my son.”

Shore wracked his brains. Colonel wasn’t a designation within the World Navy and he could see no reason why anyone from the World Army Air Force or the domestic armed forces would be calling him; especially about their son.

“I’m sorry Colonel, but I don’t quite follow you.”

“My son, Commander. Gordon Tracy. He is at Marineville.”

Commander Shore waved over his assistant and hurriedly scribbled down the name on a piece of paper. He still wasn’t entirely sure what was going on but he hadn’t been given command of Marineville by being phased by the unexpected. Within moments the assistant had checked the Marineville logs and found a match for the name.

“Ah yes, Colonel. I can see that Mr Tracy is currently a participant on one of our selection courses”

“Well he shouldn’t be.”

“Excuse me, Colonel?”

“My son is seventeen, a minor. He does not have my authorization to be there and I want him home.”

Commander Shore was feeling decidedly on the back foot, dealing with irate parents was not normally part of his job description.

The assistant returned a second time and slid a piece of paper in front of him. The sheet bore the public resume of Jeff Tracy. No wonder Shore had been feeling the nagging prickles of recognition at the name; the man on the other end of the line was one of the richest and most influential in the country and had the ability to make life very difficult if he so chose.

“I have a copy of his permission form in front of me. I can assure you WASP takes these allegations very seriously…”

“This is not an allegation, it is hard fact. Your shoddy systems have allowed a child to waltz onto your base unchallenged. I will be sending someone to collect Gordon this afternoon. Just consider yourself lucky I’m not inclined to get my lawyers involved in this blatant disregard of protocol and maladministration.”

The line went dead.

Commander Shore leant back heavily in his chair. Technically everything that happened at Marineville fell under his jurisdiction but he wasn’t normally involved with the recruits. Heck, if his assistant hadn’t been so quick off the mark he wouldn’t have even known there was a selection course running, let alone who was on it or if any of them were under age. 

Gordon wasn't the first person to try and join WASP against their family’s wishes and probably wouldn’t be the last but evidently this time the family was not going to just sit back and let it happen. Jeff Tracy was a formidable man and if he decided to make waves Shore wasn’t too sure how much support he would receive from his superiors. The very fact that Colonel Tracy had somehow accessed his direct line showed that the man had friends in high places.

Commander Shore passed the unenviable challenge of locating the missing Tracy son to his assistant. Marineville had a population of tens of thousands and covered several square miles; the selection course could be taking place anywhere. He just hoped they could find the boy before whoever Colonel Tracy had tasked to collect him arrived.

xoxoxox

Scott pulled into the visitors’ parking lot outside the Marineville security gate that stood guard over the base and screeched to a halt, slamming the door closed behind him. Of all the ways he had envisaged spending his day off this had not been part of his plans. A long run had been a possibility, maybe catch up on the stack of unwatched movies he had built up before heading into town to watch a band with a couple of the guys from his unit and, if he was lucky, pick up a girl. Instead the only thing he would be picking up today was a little brother. 

His own Air Force base was about an hour east of Marineville and as the nearest family member he had been sent on a trek across the state to find Gordon and ship him back home on the next available flight. Instead of calming down on the journey his frustrations had built up further. The phone call from his father had ruined his day. It wasn’t that he didn’t care about his brothers, it just rankled that he was expected to drop everything to sort out the mess. Jeff didn’t ask, he demanded. There was a clear expectation that he would do as he was told and Jeff left no room for argument. He wasn’t sure who he was more mad at; Gordon for engineering this whole situation or his father for still managing to dictate his life even from afar. 

First Lieutenant Tracy on a good day was formidable but on a bad day he could be terrifying. Despite technically being off duty he had opted for his dress uniform and he cut an imposing figure in the dark blue, standing out starkly amongst the grey of the WASP. The man that strode across to the guard house had the aura of one who was used to being obeyed despite his relatively junior status and it was no surprise he was climbing the ranks so quickly. 

“Can I help you, Sir?” the guard on duty acknowledged his approach.

“Scott Tracy.” He flashed his identification card. “I’m here to collect Gordon Tracy, I believe you are expecting me.”

“Very good, Sir” the guard said, after examining the waved credentials. “If you could just wait here a moment, your transport will be along soon.” 

The memo, issued by none other than Commander Shore himself, had already come down regarding the Tracys and the instructions were clear, do everything to keep them sweet. Even after the briefest of interactions the guard was quite thankful he would not be involved beyond greeting the visitor. He certainly didn’t envy the Tracy who was the cause of all the trouble, the man in front of him looked stormy to say the least. 

One phone call and five short minutes later and a jeep was approaching the guard house. Without waiting for an invitation, Scott climbed in and he and the driver were soon crossing the sprawling expanse that was Marineville. Before many more minutes had passed the jeep was rolling to a stop at their destination; a massive obstacle course that stretched away into the distance, the many elements looking like they would pose a stiff challenge to anyone tackling the beast.

“He’s not here” stated Scott bluntly, surveying the crowd of hopefuls waiting their turn.

“Sir, the timetable states that your brother is part of this group.”

Scott’s frown clearly showed his opinion on the record keeping abilities of WASP however he had little option but to follow his driver over to the officers in charge of the group. The two assessors acknowledged their approach, looking curiously at the out of place Air Force officer, but continued their job; one observing a cluster of participants out on the course through binoculars while the other jotted down the notes.

“Can I help you?” 

Scott was saved from answering by his chaperone. “We have been alerted that there is an unauthorized minor in your cohort. First Lieutenant Tracy is here to escort his brother home.”

“Yes, but I can’t see him” Scott’s frown deepened as he took a closer look at the waiting group. “It looks like your information may be flawed.”

“He might be out on the course.”

“Might? Surely you know who you have out there.”

“WASP uses anonymous observation. Participant details are held by Central Control, we only know them as numbers to avoid bias” the assessor indicated the numbered armbands worn by each participant. “If your brother is listed as part of this group and is not with those waiting he must be one of the four currently on test. This is a group task so you will have to wait until they finish. It won’t take them long, they are making good progress now they have realised they they have to work together.”

The officers turned their attention back to the course and with nothing else to do Scott found himself also watching the progress of the group, not that he could see much. The course was massive and the participants were just four indistinct figures in distance. All he wanted to do was get Gordon, get out of there then head back to his own base; each passing minute was eating into his time off and he could feel the resentment building.

“So how are they doing?” the assessor making notes asked the observer with the binoculars; they still had a job to do and participants that needed grading. 

“6 is looking strong and 3 is also putting in a solid performance. 10 is a borderline fail though unless they buck their ideas up.”

“What about 14?”

“Still leading the way and carrying the rest of the group; that lot wouldn’t be doing nearly so well without him.”

“He’s the one that figured out they had to work together?”

“Looked like it; they certainly all seem to be deferring to him now. He’s wasted in junior ranks. If he keeps up this level of performance I’ll be recommending him for the officer stream at the end of the course.”

“I know what you mean. Him and 5 have been the leading the way in all the tests and are both natural leaders although 14 put in a much stronger performance in the pool. I’ll be interested to see how 5 gets on out there when it’s his turn.”

“Well concentrate on these four for now. 10 is still lagging, I don’t think he would have made it over that last gap without 6’s help. 6 has certainly got the strength but is happy to let 14 lead.”

“And 3?”

“Keeping up and doing what he is told by the look of it; good balance and strength but a follower rather than a leader. You would think 14 had been doing this for years though, not faced with it for the first time. He is a quick thinker and the others are respecting his decisions. Definitely officer material.”

Scott listened to the conversation with vague interest. Participant 10 sounded like they were in trouble and might not make the cut but 14 must have made an impression going by the judgements being made. He valued those that could use their own initiative and wished he had few more like that in his own Air Force unit. Of course the military needed its followers too otherwise the whole structure would disintegrate but good leaders were hard to come by; he was tempted to try and have a quiet word with number 14 and see if he could sway him towards a life in the skies. 

He wondered how his brother was faring; remembering his own military selection course and the desperate desire to make the grade. The distant figures were too far away for him to even work out if one was Gordon let alone make out their numbers, perhaps the family swimmer was the solid number 3, the good strength and balance sounded fitting. Not that it mattered though, their father had made it clear that Gordon was to be returned home immediately.

The four battling for their place within WASP had now reached the far end of the course. They disappeared for a moment as they dropped off the top of the final wall then came back into view as they ran back the length of the course to the start.

The rapidly approaching figures began to resolve themselves into identifiable shapes and Scott was able to pick out the distinctive sandy blonde hair and muscular silhouette of his sibling. It looked like he had been brought to the right place after all. His gaze hardened as the object of his mission drew nearer.

The change in atmosphere was noticeable to the WASP officers as Scott stiffened and they watched with some trepidation as the four figures raced for the finish line. Evidently the errant Tracy had been sighted and was not in for a happy reunion. 

The quartet made it to the finish. One collapsed to the floor in heap while two more ended up bent double, hands braced against knees for support as they gasped in ragged lungfuls of air. The fourth, however, stayed upright although it was clear to see that this was taking effort. His breathing was strained as he fought to keep his body under control after his exertions on the course but there was an iron determination not to show weakness.

The two brothers faced off and the tension in the air became electric. The WASP officers stood back and gave them space, this was a family moment and any attempt to intervene would likely see them ending up as collateral damage. 

Scott looked down on his younger brother but if he was expecting Gordon to be cowed into submission he was sorely mistaken. Even after the recent abuse it had endured, Gordon was keeping his body under tight control, back straight and shoulders broad. The toffee eyes that stared up at him blazed with a fury he hadn’t encountered before and Scott found himself drawing on every inch of his superior height to exert dominance. Blue and brown locked in an unspoken argument that was ferocious in it’s silence. Both men stood rigid, neither breaking the deadlock.

“Gordon, you’re going home.”

The instruction was measured and more deadly than any shout but Scott wasn’t entirely sure Gordon was going to comply. This was no longer the little brother he frequently had to pack off to bed or send to his room to complete homework. The man in front of him bristled with a hatred that radiated off him. 

Gordon stared up into the crystal blue eyes, forcing his body to obey him and stay upright. The surge of rage that had swept in was helping in taking the place of the adrenalin that had ebbed after reaching the end of the course. He refused to bow down and give the submissive apology that was clearly expected. He also knew though that he was beaten. The very fact that Scott was there showed that he held the trump card and his falsified permission form had been exposed. 

This was the end of the line for WASP but there was no point in giving Scott the satisfaction of winning; he would do this on his own terms. With eyes still locked on his brother he carefully slid the elastic cuff from his arm then turned and handed it out to the assessors.

“I voluntarily withdraw. Thank you for the opportunity.” With head held high, he stepped around Scott to the waiting jeep.

It was as though a spell had been broken. Released from that burning gaze Scott was suddenly aware that all eyes were on him. He took a steadying breath to regain his composure then also turned to the WASP officers.

“I’m sorry for the trouble my brother has caused.” 

The officers just looked at him, speechless, still unsure as to what they had just witnessed. Their strongest candidate exposed as a child who had no right to be there. As Scott turned to leave he couldn’t help but see the number on the armband, still held in the officer’s outstretched hand. 

Number 14.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a story that I originally told myself I wouldn't start posting until it was finished but, well, that didn't happen. Unfortunately I've now used up the head start I gave myself so posting is likely to slow down. Please don't think this has been abandoned though, the next chapter is already half written. I'll try not to leave too long between chapters (I'm hoping to still get out at least 1 a week) but I can't promise to update every 3 days like I have been. I've been really appreciating every comment left even if I don't manage to respond to all of them so thank you.


	11. Chapter 11

The phone on the desk blared into life and Jeff grabbed at it, nearly knocking the device to the floor in his hurry to answer. It had been hours since he dispatched Scott to Marineville and the wait for news had been agonising. Every minute that Gordon was missing left him more chilled. Thoughts of food and drink had been far from his mind, consumed by the worry that something sinister may have happened or that somehow Gordon had moved on and was again missing. His final whispered promise to Lucille to keep their children safe had been echoing around his head and haunting him.

“Scott?” He tried to maintain some composure but there was still a slight waver to his tone.

“Plane’s just taken off Dad. Gordon will be landing at Long Beach in a little under two hours. Flight code AT2784”

“I’ll head over to meet him. Goodbye Scott.” He shut the call off abruptly as emotion threatened to overwhelm him.

For Jeff the call brought a flood of relief but this was quickly replaced by a wave of anger now that Gordon’s safety had been confirmed. His son’s idiocy and selfishness had caused untold worry, while the deception he had employed in this whole enterprise meant a complete loss of trust. Meetings had been rearranged, potentially annoying valuable business partners and Wilbur’s internship offer had also expired. Yet again Gordon had thrown a curveball and hang the consequences for everyone else.

Of all his sons Gordon brought him more stress and worry than the others combined. If any of his children was going to discredit the Tracy name it was Gordon. The worst school reports; Gordon. The only one ever suspended; Gordon. He had hoped that the boy would soon start showing some maturity but this latest example of recklessness proved that he still had a lot of growing up to do. 

Two hours. Time enough to get some food and then have the car take him to the airport. He didn’t think Gordon would disappear again but then he had never anticipated Gordon falsifying documents and attempting to join WASP. No, tonight he was taking no chances; when that flight landed he would be there ready and waiting.

xoxoxox

Scott pocketed his phone and turned away from the panoramic viewing windows that looked out over the runway. He had called his father the second the wheels left the ground and now, just a few short moments later, the plane was already a distant speck whisking his brother back to Los Angeles. The late summer sun was low in the sky by the time he reached his car, his day off was nearly over and he knew that by the time he made it back to base there would be no time for anything except bed. 

The last few hours had been....enlightening. He couldn’t remember the last time he had spent so long alone with Gordon. It had been seven years since he had lived at home and his visits had generally coincided with holidays and celebrations, times when Gordon had let his hair down and been like the ten year old kid he used to live with. He had been fully prepared to go along with his father’s assertion that Gordon was both immature and selfish and needed a harsh dose of reality. 

The Gordon he sat with today, waiting for the flight south to be called, wasn’t like that. The very last time he had seen Gordon his brother had been trying to eat an entire pint tub of ice cream topped with two bags of M&Ms. But then the last time he had seen Gordon had been the day after his gold medal win, a day of celebration and blowing off steam after years of hard training. Irreverent goofballs don’t tend to go on to be world record holders. 

His brother had earned that medal through dedication, determination and the sort of steely resolve he had just witnessed in the young man who had sat opposite him in the airport cafe, sipping on a mineral water, the dirt of the Marineville obstacle course still smudging his clothes. This Gordon wasn’t a child. This Gordon had earnt the respect of the WASP assessors and displayed skills and talents that his own family had never recognised. That Gordon could be considered officer material by anyone had come as a shock but in just the short time he had spent with his brother he could begin to see what they meant. 

His anger, which had dissipated while waiting with Gordon for the flight to board, returned as his father ended the call. To be dismissed without even a thank you for what he had done was more than a little cutting but then Jeff had always had this unwavering belief that his sons should all do exactly as they were told. Today he had been just a lackey directed to do his father’s bidding without any consideration to his own needs. Of course he had done it though, trekked across the state at a moments notice, it was for family after all but another precious day off was gone without any acknowledgement of the sacrifice from his father. Underneath the anger he realised that part of him was actually a little jealous of Gordon. He was sure his brother would pay a heavy price for this escapade but he was the only one who had dared to break the mould. His own route through university and into the Air Force had been heavily directed and while it was a path he had happily followed he reflected that he had never really been given a choice in the matter.

His thoughts turned, as they frequently did, to the idiotic plan that had been presented to the eldest three as though it were a done deal; the rescue organisation manned by a pilot, a former astronaut and two students expected to train up to whatever tasks were thrown at them. He couldn’t see Virgil ever disobeying their father and John would do anything if it meant he could live among the stars. The more he thought about it, the less he wanted to give up the life he was making for himself in the Air Force no matter how noble the cause. Today had shown that he would be forever moved about like a pawn with no thought given to his own needs and he couldn’t face going back to live under the unyielding control of his father. He resolved to take a leaf out of Gordon’s book and live his own life; his father could find a different pilot for his madcap scheme.

xoxoxox

As Gordon entered the arrivals hall at Long Beach Airport he was not surprised to see the familiar form of his father waiting by the barriers, flanked by his security detail. Standing ramrod straight and staring at the gate Jeff made an imposing sight but Gordon was too tired to be intimidated, he had been up since dawn and put through his paces and now all he wanted was his bed. He held his father’s gaze as he walked across the polished tiles then followed to the waiting car looking for all the world like a condemned prisoner.

The journey across town had been completed in silence despite the soundproof privacy screen being lifted, shutting off the occupants in the passenger cabin from those riding up front. Father and son sat stiffly in the back, the tension palpable and the atmosphere uncomfortable. Even their initial greeting had been limited to a mere nod of acknowledgement at the airport. It was only once the sanctuary of the apartment had been gained and the study door shut behind Jeff with a subtle click far too quiet for the mood did the first words finally get spoken. 

“Sit down Gordon.” Jeff indicated the chair opposite him as he took up his habitual place behind the desk.

“No thank you.”

“I said sit down. Do you really want to faint in front of me just to prove a point? You look awful” The measured tone took on a note of exasperation at the continued defiance.

“I’m fine.” His legs buckled beneath him all the same and he sat down heavily in the chair. Thinking back he hadn’t eaten since being presented with the fairly unappetising lunch rations as Marineville, he had been too angry to accept anything more than water from Scott at the airport.

“You are anything but ‘fine’. People who are fine do not forge documents and run off to join the navy.”

“WASP.” Gordon corrected him.

“Which is still currently under the wider jurisdiction of the World Navy. However, the who doesn’t really matter. What is important here is that you lied, you deceived and you disappeared without a thought or care to those around you. Even Alan knows better than to head off without permission. When will you grow up and stop behaving like such a child?”

“You’re the one who has been on at me to do something with my life. You’re the one that keeps telling me to choose a career path and think of my future. Well that’s what I was doing. I’d be out of your way and you wouldn’t have to bother about me any more.”

“You’re too young for WASP.”

“I’m not. I wasn’t the only 17 year old at selection.”

“They probably had permission. Which is another thing, don’t ever forge my signature again.”

Gordon snorted “You’d best start paying attention to Alan then.”

“And what is that supposed to mean.”

“I’ve been signing his school permission forms for years. I got fed up of seeing him get upset or getting into trouble. You were always too busy, you’d get to it later. Well later was too late one too many times. So now he doesn’t bother you with them any more, he can do the field trips, the maths olympiads and the science fairs and just show you certificates later. Or at least stick them to the refrigerator in the hope you notice them seeing as you’re barely here. Do you even care about us or are we just an inconvenience until we do something that can be shown off to your cronies? Another trophy you can wave to show how great the Tracys are?”

“How dare you question me, of course care about you all. I do what I need to do.”

“Yeah, and I’ve done what I needed to do. You have been more than happy to leave me to look after Alan night after night yet you still can’t see that I’m not a child any more”

“I will not be spoken to like this Gordon.” The calm facade Jeff had tried to maintain cracked in the face of Gordon’s insolence. Anger flashed to the surface. “You are a child and for as long as you live under my roof you will follow my rules. From now on there will be no more competitions; you may continue to swim for exercise but I will not fund your fantasy career. I will be calling your coach in the morning and removing you from the squad. You will spend the rest of your time applying for college places. Any offers will be vetted by me seeing as you have proved that your judgement is not to be trusted. Now go and get yourself cleaned up and go to bed, it’s late.”

The chair scraped back across the floor as Gordon stood up with a jolt.

“And the great Jeff Tracy has spoken. This is why I never told you about WASP, you never listen. All you care about is your perfect reputation propped up by your model children. It doesn’t matter what we want as long as it reflects well on you.”

Gordon stalked back to his room, not stopping to hear his father’s reply. He had left it less than 48 hours previously, full of hopes and plans for the future and now he was effectively a prisoner in his own home. He threw himself onto the bed and punched the pillows in an attempt to let out some of his frustrations. 

At Marineville he had felt more comfortable than he had done for ages, there was something about the place that just felt right. Even the loss of competitive swimming was eclipsed by the thought that his chances with WASP had been ruined. Yet again his father had given the painful reminder as to who was ultimately in control of his life. Anger gave way to hopelessness and exhaustion and he drifted off to sleep still fully clothed, silent tears mixed with Marineville mud leaving their tracks across his pillow.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I normally keep my fics pretty clean but one or two swears crept in this time, just as a heads up.

Virgil ran his fingers through his hair and wondered what the hell to do for the best, he was completely out of his depth and floundering. He had made it his personal duty to keep an eye on Gordon ever since that fated visit to Denver but now the red flags were flashing and he was feeling ill equipped to deal with it. His cheerful brother, normally so driven and bursting with barely contained energy, was wilting before his eyes. 

With each passing call Gordon had become more listless, less talkative, dropping into the stupor of the repressed. He should have been worried when Gordon switched from video calls to voice only but he had been too busy with his own course to pay much heed to the change of routine until today. He was pretty sure that Gordon had activated the video screen by accident; the face that greeted him was sallow, the eyes red rimmed and framed by heavy black bags. It hadn’t taken long but Gordon’s lean and athletic form displayed change quickly, his little brother was a mess and looked visibly ill. 

Of course he had heard all about the Marineville incident and their father’s ultimatum so he knew the cause but not the solution. He couldn’t even have Gordon up to stay with him again because Jeff’s total control over Gordon’s life had extended to him refusing even this escape for the teenager. He had already tried that route but their father had held firm that Gordon had not yet earned the right to freedom.

With his father holding on to the unshakable belief that Gordon needed tough love and firm handling Virgil turned to the only other person he thought could make a difference. After a quick check of the time he picked up his phone again and called Scott.

“Hi Virg, what’s up?” Scott took in his brother’s agitated demeanor causing his usually cheerful tone to change to one of concern. “Hey, are you ok?”

“Not really. I think I need your help.”

“Everything ok with your project? Or have you finally got girlfriend trouble?”

“This is serious Scott” Virgil admonished, not impressed at his brother’s attempt to lighten the mood. He ran his fingers through his hair again, it was a sure tell of his barely contained worry and a gesture that made Scott sit up and take notice. “I’m fine but I’m worried about Gordon.”

“Gordon? What has he done now?” With Gordon pretty much confined to quarters since Marineville Scott wondered how much trouble could his brother could get into really? Surely if he had run off again it would be Dad on the phone to him, not Virgil.

“Nothing, as far as I can tell. But I spoke to him tonight and I’m worried about him, he seemed so low and upset.”

“Are we talking ‘Alan breaking his octopus model’ upset, or ‘losing the state final and nearly being booted from the national squad’ upset.”

“I mean looking like he hasn’t eaten or slept for a week levels of upset.”

“Shit. That bad?” To Gordon the body was a tool and a temple, the words ‘optimal nutrition regime’ had been bandied about from an age when most kids would still happily eat candy for breakfast if given half the chance. Gordon had never not taken care of himself.

“Yes, that bad. I’ve never seen him like this before, it’s like all the spark has gone out of him. He’s got nothing to aim at and nothing to live for. Dad is adamant that he needs to go to college but that has never been part of his life plan and he has got absolutely no confidence in his own abilities even if he wanted to go on to further studies. Do you think you can go back and check on him? I know it’s a big ask but I’m tied here for the next few weeks otherwise I’d go myself.”

Scott knew that Virgil wouldn’t make this request lightly. They had spent so long looking after the kids together back in Kansas, each supporting the other while their father focussed on his business or his grief, that he trusted Virgil’s judgement to be sound. If direct intervention was requested then that was what was needed.

“I’ll see what I can do. I’ve got some leave due at the end of the month, I might be able to get it brought forward.” He made a mental note to cancel his airfield slot in New York, whether his leave got moved or not it looked like he was going to be spending it in LA rather than the Big Apple.

“Thanks. You know I wouldn’t ask this if I wasn’t sure it was necessary.”   
“I know. Look, it’s fine. I’ll get down there as soon as I can and report back to you. Now go get some sleep, you look done in and it must be gone midnight for you.”

“Okay. Night Scott.” A wave of relief washed over Virgil as he closed the call. If Scott hadn’t been available the next step would have been to head back himself; he would have been on a flight already if his project wasn’t at a time-critical stage. Scott would soon get to the heart of the matter and everything would be fine. He hoped.

Several states away Scott ran his fingers through his own hair in a gesture that mirrored his brother’s earlier action. He hadn’t seen Virgil this rattled about a brother’s health since John’s suspected appendicitis eight years ago. That had been for a scary time for them all with Jeff away on a business trip and Scott left in charge of the kids, ably backed up by Virgil as his reliable second in command; a role his little brother had assumed without asking ever since their mother had died. Now Virgil was asking him to step up again and it was time to answer the call. They had worked as a team then and they would work as a team now. 

xoxoxox

In less than a week Scott found himself outside the apartment door. He hoped Virgil was wrong and that this was a wasted journey but his brother had an uncanny skill at being able to see beneath the surface. It was his trust in Virgil’s opinion that had him citing ‘family emergency’ and ‘compassionate leave’ at his own commanding officer before making the trip south. 

He entered the cool darkness of the hallway and was hit by the wall of sound spilling out from the cracked doorway of Gordon’s room; a telltale sign that his brother was there but noone else was. There was no way Jeff would have put up with that sort of racket as the beat of the music thudded through his bones. He wasn’t particularly keen himself but at least it meant he could make his entry undetected. It also meant that he was guaranteed some time alone with Gordon; Alan should be out at school for at least the next few hours which would give him the opportunity to try and get Gordon to open up without the pressure of an audience.

Pausing only to deposit his kit bag in the room that had never really felt like his, Scott made his way to the kitchen and started digging through cupboards until he found the cocoa. It was a comforter, a treat reserved for those times when someone was particularly upset or recovering from illness. The dark playlist that was still reverberating around the apartment suggested it was going to be necessary. 

Bearing two steaming mugs Scott nudged the door to Gordon’s room wide open and stepped in. The curtains were still closed despite it being the middle of the day and the room smelt stale. The figure on the bed sat up with a start at the sudden intrusion and confusion crossed Gordon’s features at the unexpected visitor. For Scott the shock was different in nature, even in the darkened room the physical change in his brother was profound. Gone was the tanned skin and glossy hair, instead Gordon’ locks sat limp and flat, framing a face that was several shades too pale making the dark eyes look like wells into oblivion. The haunted look that greeted him caused Scott to curse himself for for not realising that things had gotten this bad, for not being there and for leaving Virgil to be the one that kept a check on everyone’s wellbeing.

He put the mugs down and hit the off switch on the stereo, causing a deep silence to fall over the room, before throwing open the curtains. The sudden change in light levels made Gordon wince and the natural light he was now bathed in only served to enhance how pale he had got. Scooching Gordon’s legs out of the way so he could perch on the end he joined his brother on the bed.

“I couldn’t find any of that caramel syrup you like, sorry.” 

“S’ok. Coach doesn’t like us having too much refined sugar. Didn’t like. Don't suppose it matters any more.” The reminder that he no longer had a coach was like a punch to the gut and his shoulders slumped just that little bit lower. 

Picking up the mug Gordon took a deep pull at his cocoa. The warm sweetness hit the back of his throat invoking memories of Kansas; recovering from a cold or mourning a lost race, Scott’s cocoa was a band-aid for the soul. Even without the syrup the hit of sugar that came with the drink gave his thought processes a jump start. He blinked, then looked at Scott as if properly seeing him for the first time. Yes, big brother really was in his room. 

“Why are you here?” Suspicion crept into his voice. The last time he’d seen Scott it was Marineville; he wondered if this was another visitation orchestrated by their father, have big brother there during the day as another layer of control.

“Had some annual leave to use” Scott shrugged. “Didn’t have any plans so I thought I would stop here for a few days.” 

“You’re a terrible liar.” Gordon rolled his eyes at the blatant falsehood. “Try again.”

“Okay. Virgil was worried about you and asked me to look in, call him if you don’t believe me. It’s true I had some leave to use up though.” 

“Does Dad know you’re here?”

“Not yet. I wanted to see how you were for myself first and frankly Gordon, you're a mess. When did you last swim? When did you last even shower?” With the curtains now open and the sun streaming in the room was warming up, amplifying the odour of unwashed body. 

“Was at the pool maybe 2 weeks ago. Don’t really know any more. Not much point now I’m off the squad.”

“C’mon Squid, you’re better than this. Finish your drink and get your running shoes on, you need some sunshine and you need it now.” 

“Can’t. Gotta get my personal statement finished before Dad gets home.” The half-empty mug was set down with thud, the cocoa suddenly seeming bitter. Storm clouds brewed behind his eyes at the reminder of their father and the rules he imposed.

“And how’s that going?” Scott raised an accusatory eyebrow at the rumpled bed sheets. There were some jotted notes on the desk but it didn’t look like Gordon had made much progress. “I’ll give you a hand with it later but I need a run and you are coming with me, it’ll make you feel better.”

Gordon knew better than to argue. The Scott of Kansas, the one that provided cocoa, was also the Scott that had spent night after night getting him to complete his homework or making him tidy his room. He’d had a counter to every single one of Gordon’s tricks or arguments then and the look on his face showed he wasn’t going to take no for an answer now. He hauled himself up and hunted for his running shoes in the closet while Scott disappeared off to his own room to get changed. The very fact that he couldn’t lay his hands on his running kit straight away just showed that Scott was probably right, he had been shut away and static for too long and needed to move. 

The pair set off at an easy pace, their feet thudding against the sidewalk as they headed towards the nearest green space. For Gordon, who had been neglecting his fitness regime of late, it took a while to shake the stiffness out of his limbs. The sun felt dazzling as it reflected back up from the flagstones after shutting it out of his room for so long. 

Scott made sure to stay a couple of steps behind to start off with, supposedly so that Gordon could direct the route, but really so that his younger sibling could dictate the speed without being pressured. He had always been the faster runner, his long limbs easily able to outstrip his brother’s stockier build, but the pace as they set off felt particularly sluggish. There was no attempt at competition either. Despite their differing talents the Gordon of old would always put up fight, trying to achieve the impossible and beat him to the finish but there was no fight today. Staying a few steps behind also gave him a chance to take a proper look at his brother. Scott noted with worry that the muscle definition in his arms and legs was softer, his steps heavy and less springy and the tee-shirt hung limply off a form that seemed thinner than before; the family athlete was a long way off peak condition and far from his usual energetic self. Compared to the powerful figure he had watched sprinting to the finish of the assault course at Marineville Gordon was practically unrecognisable.

They ran in silence along shaded boulevards and down wooded paths, the sounds of the city muted by the greenery of the park. The path looped and twisted and you could almost forget the world that existed on the far side of the railings. As they approached the gates that would release them back into the city Scott turned onto the grass and slowed to a halt leaving Gordon to follow him with a puzzled look.

“Stretches” Scott answered in response to the unasked question in Gordon’s eyes, “or have you forgotten how to do those too?”

Gordon didn’t grace that with a response, just rolled his eyes and started running though his post-workout routine. It really had been too long since he had given his body a proper challenge and his limbs were protesting. He was still fit by average standards but he knew that if he hit the pool now he would be miles off gold medal pace.

Stretches complete Scott flopped down on the grass and patted the ground next to him in a gesture that was more command than invitation. Gordon’s legs complied, gratefully collapsing to the floor, and he was soon sprawled beside his brother on the warm turf gazing up at a sky criss-crossed by contrails.

“So Gordon, what the fuck were you thinking?”

Gordon’s head snapped round at the blunt outburst. “Don’t you start too, I’ve already had all the lectures I can handle.”

“I’m not here to lecture. Seriously though, what the hell has been going on? First you’re storming your way to a world record, then you’re putting yourself through one of the toughest military selections in the world and now you look like you couldn’t do either.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t need to be able to do either, do I. Dad has made it perfectly clear I’ve got to go to college. I’m not allowed to compete any more and you hauling my ass out of Marineville kinda blew any chance I had with WASP.” 

A look of anger flashed across Gordon’s eyes as he threw out that barb. He was pissed at himself for how hard he had found the run and cursing his lapse of discipline, Scott was an easy target for his frustrations. For Scott it was the first spark of real emotion he had witnessed since arriving. 

“Yeah, sorry about that, I didn’t really have a lot of choice. I must admit I was surprised though, you’ve never shown any interest in the military before.” 

“Never really had the time. I’d spent so long throwing everything I had at my swimming I really thought that was going to be my life. I honestly thought I could make him proud. Turns out in Dad’s eyes though it could never be more than a hobby. Now Coach won’t have me back on the team even with Dad’s permission; he said he needs commitment and can’t risk putting in the work only to have me pulled again.” 

The pain in his brother’s voice was clearly evident and Scott couldn’t blame him. Gordon has spent years devoting himself to his sport, making significant sacrifices along the way. Their father had always told them to give whole heart to a cause, that half measures would only lead to failure, and when it came to swimming Gordon had followed that advice to the letter. To have all that dedication and commitment wiped out in the eyes of his Coach by the actions of that same father must have been a bitter blow. 

“Ok, forget Dad for a minute, tell me what you want. I don’t care about what Dad thinks or what your Coach says. If you could do whatever you wanted with your life what would it be?”

If Scott was expecting to be left waiting for an answer he was in for a surprise. There was no hesitation in Gordon’s response, a small part of him might still doubt Scott’s intentions but it felt good to actually be listened to and to get his frustrations off his chest.

“WASP. It...it felt good there. _I_ felt good. I felt like I belonged and I could actually see myself having a decent life. I honestly thought I could make it but I guess now I’ll never know, I’m probably permanently blacklisted.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that. Ok, faking the forms really wasn’t the smartest of moves but you won’t be under age for much longer.”

“I still couldn’t get it past Dad though.” The thought of his Dad had Gordon curling his fists in rage. A handful of grass stems ended up decapitated with a satisfying ripping sound as they were torn up by the roots. “I can’t just fly up there and try again, Dad would never arrange the ticket and my allowance has been cut off completely.” Another handful of grass lost its grip on the ground. “I can’t even call a cab without needing to run it by him to get some funds released. Hitting 18 isn’t going to buy me any more freedom.”

Scott winced inwardly as the pile of broken stems beside his brother grew with each angry tear at the ground. The restrictions being placed on Gordon’s life were draconian to say the least. The stupid thing was they were doing more harm than good but evidently their father was too certain of his own righteousness and was blind to the damage he was doing. He knew that if this carried on much longer Gordon could end up both mentally and physically broken, cowed into submission with all his spark gone. 

Just recently Scott had begun to have some appreciation of what it felt like to be under the controlling shadow of his father. Every phone call between them came with the reminder that he was expected to become pilot in his father’s rescue organisation idea. He hadn’t been asked, just presented with the future as if it were a foregone conclusion. The difference between him and Gordon was that he had already stepped away from his father’s control. Jeff couldn’t tender his resignation for him, much as he might like to, and so he still had a say in his own future. Gordon had no such power . His resolve to help his brother hardened.

“You leave Dad to me. If you’re sure WASP is what you want…”

“Yeah, it is.” The response was strong, showing some of the old confidence Scott was more used to associating with his brother.

“...then I’ll do what I can to see you get your chance. Of course, actually getting through selection will be up to you but from what I saw before you seemed to have that sorted. Now come on, up with you.” Scott hauled himself up off the grass and extended a hand to his brother, pulling Gordon up and then into a hug. He stood there for a moment, arms wrapped around the shorter form, feeling the head buried into his shoulder in silent thanks, before reluctantly breaking the contact that his brother obviously needed so desperately. “We ought to be heading back, it’s getting late. And you seriously need to hit the shower.”


	13. Chapter 13

Jeff had been surprised to get out of his meeting and find the memo on his desk. He hadn’t known his eldest son was coming home so the request that he make it back in time for dinner was pleasant if unexpected. It would be nice to have another adult in the house. Maybe having Scott around for a few days would set a good example to Gordon and get him to buck his ideas up; his fourth son was still being a distinct trial on his patience. 

He entered the apartment to snippets of conversation and laughter that drifted down from the kitchen. Scott’s clear voice carried strongly down the hallway and the sound of his eldest brought a smile to his face and he hurried through to see the son he now saw the least of. 

“Evening Gordon” a quick, curt greeting to one son before turning to the other, “Scott, this is a pleasant surprise, how come you’re here?”

“Hi Dad. I just had some leave owing, I thought I’d come back and see you folks. It is ok for me to stay isn’t it?”

“Course it is, Son, this is your home after all.”

“Thanks. Dinner’s nearly ready, it needs another, what, ten minutes?” Scott looked across at Gordon for confirmation and got a nod in return. 

“Great, I’ll just go get washed up. Where’s Alan?” he asked, noting that the table had only been set for three.

“Senior science club. You’d know that if you paid any attention to his schedule.”

The animosity radiated off of Gordon and Jeff noted the warning hand Scott placed on his younger brother’s arm, urging him to keep his cool.

“Fine. Well, I’ll be back in a few minutes boys.”

As Jeff exited the kitchen Scott turned to Gordon, still keeping hold of his arm.

“Look, I know things aren’t great between the pair of you…”

“Understatement” he was interrupted with a snort and an eye roll.

“...but please don’t make things any harder than they have to be.”

“Fine, I’ll be a good boy.”

“Gordon…!”

“Ok. No arguing with the old man, I get it. Now, can you let go of me please, I need to turn the stove off.”

Scott released his brother who turned back to the bubbling pans on the stove and put the finishing touches to the meal he was preparing. They carried the plates and dishes over to the table between them and waited for their father to join them before starting. The smells coming out of the pots were really quite tempting, it looked like Virgil was right when he said their brother had hidden talents. The meat was grilled to perfection and the sauce was full of flavour.

“This is delicious Scott.” Jeff commented after spearing a piece of broccoli. 

“Actually, Gordon cooked, I just did what I was told.”

“Hmpf, at least one of you can follow instructions then. Did you finish your personal statement Gordon? I want to see it after dinner.”

Scott realised that the arguments clearly flowed both ways. No wonder Gordon had been so miserable if every achievement was overlooked and every opportunity to take a dig at his failings was fully exploited. With every passing minute they were in close proximity, and each sniping comment from their father, that fragile confidence he had bolstered was visibly leaching out of Gordon. He noticed with concern that Gordon’s plate was still worryingly full. How could a man that was meant to love his children equally be so complimentary to him in one breath and scathing to Gordon in the next? He had always been prepared to excuse their father’s faults, the long hours of work and pushing responsibility onto himself and Virgil was an unfortunate consequence of a man trying to do his best for his family, but he couldn’t stay quiet over tonights’ injustice. Placing down his fork he took a deep breath and prepared to enter the fray.

“Actually Dad, Gordon and I have been busy this afternoon. It’s my fault he hasn’t done it.” 

“Well he can work on it after dinner then, the next college application cycle will be closing soon. Perhaps you can give him some pointers.” 

“I’ll help Gordon with his application but it won’t be for college.” 

Jeff, sensing insubordination, narrowed his eyes. He had come to expect it from Gordon but Scott had always followed his lead. This new development was surprising.

“Well what else would he be applying for?” 

“WASP.” It came out slightly louder than Scott intended causing the surrounding silence to deepen ominously. He held his father’s gaze and set his jaw in determination. He had committed to supporting Gordon and was prepared to make a stand.

“Not that nonsense again” The rebuttal was swift and accompanied by the clatter of steel against crockery as the remains of the meal were abandoned. Jeff’s anger rose swiftly at the mention of the aquanaut patrol. “He’s too young and hardly has the right temperament to follow orders. Even if they would accept him he would probably be court marshalled out within a month and I will not have that sort of shame brought on the family”

“He won’t be too young in February and he has exactly the right temperament to join as an officer.”

Now it was Gordon’s turn to be surprised. He was grateful to Scott for his support in joining WASP but to hear his brother thought he should be an officer was a step further than he had ever considered. He had been staying silent during the verbal tennis match between Scott and his father, trying his hardest not to inflame the situation. Tensions around the table were escalating. Scott had always deferred to their father previously but his time in the Air Force had him used to being in command and now it was like watching the alpha male and the young contender circling for dominance in the pack. He wondered if the comment was deliberately designed to challenge their father or if Scott really meant it.

“Gordon? An officer? You cannot be serious about that.” There was derision at the mere thought of Gordon taking a role of responsibility.

“I’m perfectly serious. You never saw him at Marineville. You never heard what his assessors said about him. If he hadn’t had to withdraw from selection they were going to offer him a commission, they could see he was wasted in junior ranks and I have to say I agree with them. WASP selection makes the Air Force tests look like a cake walk but Gordon was good out there. If he wants to go into WASP then I for one will support him, it would be nice if you could support him too.”

“I think I know how best to support Gordon and that is in continuing his education, that’s if Gordon is even still eligible for college.” Jeff reached into his jacket and drew out an envelope, it was addressed to Gordon and bore the marks of the California Department of Education. He slid it across the table. “This was in the mailbox downstairs. I was hoping to talk to you about it privately, Gordon, and save you any embarrassment, but seeing as your brother is determined to play a part in your future we may as well discuss this now. I can only assume there has been some error in the awarding of your high school diploma.” 

Scott looked at the envelope with some concern. If Gordon really had flunked his diploma then becoming an officer was off the cards and even junior ranks looked doubtful. WASP really could afford to take only the best and this could be a major stumbling block. His younger sibling paused for a moment, trepidation etched across his features, before reaching out and picking up the letter. 

“Took them long enough, I’ve been waiting for this.” There was something in his tone that Scott couldn’t quite place; more nervous anticipation than worry.

Gordon slit open the envelope slowly, as if not wanting to see what it contained despite having been expecting it. A single sheet was carefully extracted and it only took Gordon a moment to read the short correspondence.

“Bastards.” The exclamation was spat out as the page was thrown down in disgust.

Whatever reaction Scott and Jeff had been expecting it wasn’t this. 

“Gordon, what’s going on?” Scott butted in, cutting off their father from issuing a rebuke for foul language.

“They won’t change the topic.”

“Topic?” Scott looked at his brother in confusion.

“Yeah” Gordon sighed heavily, too exhausted to maintain the mask he normally wore around his father. The anger in his features mixed with pain as the memories resurfaced. “You wouldn’t have had to do this one back in Kansas but California have a unit on Modern American History and Dad here is a compulsory assignment. I wrote and asked them to take it off the curriculum.”

“Why would you try and do that? I know things aren’t great between you two at the moment but surely you don’t want to wipe Dad out the history books.” He tried to place a reassuring hand on Gordon’s forearm but the limb was yanked out of his reach.

“This isn’t about Dad, it’s about ALAN!” Gordon dropped his head into his hands, his elbows slamming painfully against the tabletop. Grief and a sense of failure bubbled up inside him as he hid his face from twin questioning gazes. He hated showing weakness, hated giving his father yet more ammunition to throw back against him, but the memories were too strong to repress.

“What the hell has Alan got to do with this. Seriously Gordo, you aren’t making any sense.” First it was about school, now it was about Alan. Scott felt like he was trying to read a book with half the pages missing. He was sure it made sense somehow but at the moment all he knew was that Gordon was clearly upset and hurting.

Jeff snorted, choosing to ignore the deep breathing as Gordon fought to maintain control. “I dare say your brother will do a better job than you when the time comes. From what I remember of that paper you barely scraped a pass grade. It really says something about your abilities when you can screw up what should have been the easiest assignment of the lot. It’s your own family for goodness sake.”

“Easy?” The blonde head snapped up, locking eyes with his father and channeling the grief into anger. “That was the hardest paper I’ve ever had to write in my life and it’s going to be ten times worse for Alan. At least I wasn’t mentioned by name.” 

“Gordon, what’s going on?” The rising flush of emotion to his brother’s cheeks filled Scott with concern.

“The paper, it’s not just about Dad, Mom’s in there too. Do you have any idea how hard it is to have the worst moment of your entire life there in the set text for the whole class to see? The avalanche, Mom dying, Alan surviving, it’s all there. They didn’t even have the decency to put it in the main text either, it’s just a footnote like it isn’t really important. Our Mom’s death is a fucking footnote and I didn’t want Alan to have to deal with it like I had to, it’s not like I’ll even be here to help him when the time comes. Ever since Dad decided I was going to be packed off to college I’ve been trying to get it changed.”

“That...that sucks.” Scott couldn’t even begin to imagine what it would be like to have to face their own personal tragedy in the classroom. What it evidently had been like for Gordon. “But Alan won’t be dealing with it alone, Dad will be here.”

“What, like he was here for me? You and Virgil were better parents than Dad has ever been. He only cares about the bottom line. Make the grade and nothing else matters.” The chair was shoved back angrily.

“Gordon, you should have told me.” Jeff cut in quietly, his face ashen at the sudden reminder of the tragedy that had ripped his wife away forever. That Scott and Virgil were viewed akin to parents by the younger ones rather than just brothers was also a shock. Had he really been so far removed from his family? What else had he been blind to? His eyes tracked backwards and forwards, trying to keep pace with Gordon who was now striding about erratically on the opposite side of the table in a display of energy Jeff suddenly realised had been absent for many weeks.

“I tried to but you weren’t exactly in a listening mood. You were too busy bawling me out for getting suspended.” 

“You got suspended?” How much had he missed out on in the last seven years? If Gordon had ever confided this to Virgil his next younger brother had never shared the burden of knowledge. The Gordon he had left behind may have been a bit of a pest at school with the occasional prank or missed homework but nothing that would warrant him getting suspended. 

“Guess some of my screw ups Dad didn’t even want to share with the family. Yes Scott, I got suspended. I...well...I got upset in class and some of the others kept going on about it and then one day I snapped. Ended up breaking someone’s nose. The Principal took it off my permanent record though when he found out what it was over. I think he felt sorry for me.”

“So you tried to get the Department of Education to drop the topic.”

“Yes.” Gordon picked up the letter again, a look of disgust crossing his face. “They won’t though. They ‘thank me for my concerns and provide their strongest assurances of the factual accuracy of the text books’. He’s got another year to go yet but when he gets there please look after Alan” this plea was directed straight at their father, “cos I can’t if I’m at college and it’s going to be rough for him.”

Scott found the disgust mirrored in his own features, not just at the Education Board, but also for the actions of their father who had clearly skipped out on the emotional wellbeing side of parenting. Gordon had faced the demons alone and was now doing his level best to protect Alan.

Any further discussions were cut short by the arrival home of that same small, blonde hurricane.

“Scott! When did you get here?” Alan launched himself across the room and draped himself around Scott’s neck, nearly strangling his older brother. The new arrival seemed unperturbed by the obvious tensions around the table and Scott wondered just how normal it had become for the youngest to be surrounded by bad feelings and barely concealed arguments. 

“Hey, let a guy breathe.” The clinging arms loosened slightly but weren’t released completely and Scott returned the hug. “C’mon, we’ve finished here. Do you need to eat? Any homework due tomorrow?” 

A shake of the blonde head. “You’re as bad as Gordon. What is it with everyone checking up on my homework?”

As bad as Gordon, _not_ as bad as Dad; Scott filed that away for the next time he spoke to Virgil. He had been so happy to be free of the responsibilities of family that he had never really considered who had stepped up to take his place. 

“Well if you’re sure you’re good let’s go somewhere more comfortable, you’re pushing me off this chair.”

Jeff watched as Scott unhooked Alan’s arms and led the party through to the lounge. Those were the questions he probably should have been asking as a father but hadn’t thought to. Scott had stepped in first as though checking in on the youngster was the most natural thing in the world. 

All traces of the argument were put to one side for the sake of the youngest but the look Scott shot Jeff showed that the discussions were far from over.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right, I've hauled myself out of the chasm of angst I created and I'm back on in. Sorry about the delay, I needed to squeeze in some fluffy one-shots to clear the moody fug.

Jeff entered the apartment to find all three of his resident sons sprawled on the couch, Alan snoring gently against Scott’s side while the older two talked in low voices. The two who were still awake fell silent as he entered, twin stares turning on him at the intrusion. The animosity directed towards him was perhaps well deserved he reflected, his actions maybe hadn’t been worthy of the respect he had always insisted upon.

“Evening Scott, Gordon.” He raised an eyebrow at the scene; it was late and Alan should have been in his own bed not drooling into a blanket. A look of disapproval was clearly evident in Jeff’s features and Scott was keen to deflect it away from his brothers.

“He didn’t want to go to bed and I didn’t have the heart to make him. He’s been out of it for a while though, as soon as Gordon gave him the blanket he was gone.” With Scott home and Gordon not shutting himself away in his room Alan had been reluctant to head off to bed. It was clear that the youngest sibling had been lonely as he clung to the human contact.

“I didn’t realise that still worked.” Jeff found himself caught in a flashback to a much younger Alan being swaddled in the same blanket at the farmhouse to make him sleep.

“Yeah, well, he used to try and stay up and wait for you to get home after we moved here. If it got too late I’d get the blanket out then carry him to his room once he crashed. He’s lighter than what Coach had me lifting.”

So that was how Gordon had known it would work Scott mused. As soon as the clock had ticked past Alan’s bed time and the teenager had shown no signs of moving without a fight Gordon had dug out the old fleece blanket to ‘help him get comfy’ and within minutes the snoring had started. Gordon had even had the foresight to make Alan put on his pyjamas and clean his teeth before the trio had settled in on the couch. He wondered just how many nights that small blonde form had tried to wait up in the hope of seeing their father only for the man not to appear until long after bed time.

“How come you’re so late back. Is everything ok?”

“This isn’t late” Gordon butted in, “it’s pretty normal for Dad.”

“Dad?”

“The business needs me.”

“But it’s nearly 11 o’clock.”

“You boys were ok though. You could have called me if I was needed.”

“Would you have answered? Like you said, it’s late, I’d better get him off to bed.” Scott sensed more tales untold in Gordon’s weary response.

With Scott still pinned under his sleeping sibling Gordon completed the last stage of the maneuver he was evidently well practiced at. Despite his lack of recent exercise he was still able to easily slide his arms under and carry the youngest Tracy off to his own bed.

With that settled Scott turned to his father.

“So you’re never back for bedtime?”

“I get here when I can”

“And how often is that?”

No response. To Scott the silence was more telling than any answer. So that was how it had worked; Jeff would stay out at the office until goodness knows when and Gordon would take responsibility for ensuring Alan was fed and in bed at a reasonable time. It was horribly similar to his own teenage years except he had always had Virgil at his side; Gordon had taken on that role from a younger age, in an unfamiliar city, without sibling support and all while keeping up with his swimming training. No wonder he could display a maturity far beyond his years when needed, the last four years had been a trial that Gordon must have excelled at seeing as none of them had realised what was happening. 

“After all this and you still call Gordon a kid; are you really that blind? He’s more mature than you give him credit for. Looks to me like Gordon has been more of a Dad to Alan over these last four years than you have and you weren’t much of a parent before that; it was sink or swim for Virg and I and it looks like you’ve done exactly the same to Gordon. It’s just as well he is such a good swimmer, isn’t it.”

Scott’s berations, carried out in hissed undertones, were cut off by the return of Gordon.

“He didn’t even stir” Gordon reassured them as he reentered the room, “and now I ought to head off too. Goodnight Dad. Goodnight Scott.” Gordon had been enjoying catching up with his brother but the return of their father had soured his mood and now he just wanted to escape. It was also impossible to miss the daggers in the looks Scott was giving their father and he had no energy to deal with another argument.

“Gordon, wait.” Accompanied by an audible sigh and eyeroll Gordon paused and turned at the direct request, hoping whatever it was would be over swiftly. “Before you go off to bed I just wanted to let you know that I’ve been in touch with my lawyers. I’m going to get those text books changed; just because something is factually accurate that doesn’t make it right. And Gordon, no more keeping secrets from me. If I had known I would have got involved sooner”

Gordon nodded his acknowledgement but couldn’t go quite as far as voicing thanks, after all the books weren’t changed yet. His father was also still conveniently ignoring that it hadn’t been a secret at the time, he had just refused to listen to Gordon.

After Gordon had escaped back to his own sanctuary Scott rounded on their father.

“No more keeping secrets; that’s rich coming from you. So does this mean you’re going to tell them your grand plan.”

“Not now Scott, I’m tired and it’s been a long day.”

“Yeah, well it’s been a long day for Gordon too. You’ve got no idea what goes on here, do you. He deserves to know.”

“He’s just a child.”

“There you go again, he is NOT a child and hasn’t been for a long time. You need to wake up and start seeing him for who he is, both of them. You’re just lucky Alan still worships you but when Gordon gets in to WASP…”

“IF he gets in.”

“WHEN, because trust me I will do my damned best to help him get there. When Gordon gets into WASP just who do you think will be there for Alan? There won’t be anyone left to make excuses or cover for you. Unless you step up and start being an active parent you are going to lose Alan just like you are losing Gordon. Now if you will excuse me it’s late and I promised I would take Alan to school in the morning.”

Scott spun on his heels and strode out the room leaving a stunned Jeff in his wake. The older man stood there for a moment before heading to the cupboard and pulling out a bottle of single malt. The measure he poured was rather larger than usual in deference to the trying day he had had.

Retreating to his favourite armchair in the now deserted lounge, scotch in hand, Jeff reflected on the events of the day. Dealing with lawyers always gave him a headache even if he was the one who had initiated contact. The Department of Education had tried to give him a similar brush off to Gordon but Jeff hadn’t got where he was in life by giving up at the first hurdle. To find out that Lucille’s death was read out in classrooms up and down the state had been a shock. That moment was private, a personal tragedy, not something to be critiqued in the story of his meteoric rise to fame.

Lucille.

What on earth would she make of all this? He had always told himself that he was doing what was best for their children, but was he, really? Virgil and John seemed to be doing okay and he’d never had any concerns about Scott. Well, until now that is. The son he had earmarked as his Field Commander seemed to be pulling away from him, no longer willing to follow his direction.

And what about the youngest two? He realised with sadness that he barely knew Alan. He knew Alan was doing well at school, he would soon have picked up on it if his grades slipped, but he didn’t know his son’s likes and dislikes. The fact he attended senior science club wasn’t much of a surprise, all of his sons except Gordon seemed to have a flair for the sciences, but if you had asked him where Alan went on a Wednesday he wouldn’t have known the answer. Had this needed another permission form that Gordon dealt with?

Which left Gordon. The son who had a world record to his name but hadn’t been to the pool in weeks. The son who could have been offered a commission in WASP but was instead flicking through the prospectuses of third rate universities. If ever there was a damning indictment of his parenting skills it was Gordon.

The first glass had been drained in an instant and he poured a second measure. Jeff swirled the amber liquid around the tumbler, watching how it caught the light from the lamps and seemed to glow.

Gordon.

He tried to think back to that first move to the city. With both Virgil and John packed off to university it just left him and the little ones, except Gordon was now no longer the little boy, barely a teenager, who had been transplanted from the wheat fields. Somewhere along the line the little boy had grown up. The little boy had been forced to grow up because he had been so used to his sons working as a self-reliant unit that he hadn’t thought to step in again as the older ones moved away. And now, four years down the line, Gordon was on the brink of adulthood and he hadn’t even realised. Seventeen but carrying responsibilities way beyond his years. 

Jeff thought back to himself at seventeen with his future all mapped out in his head. Yale and the Air Force were calculated stepping stones to enable him to complete astronaut training; a dream he had committed himself to despite his father’s wishes. Oh yes there had been arguments there, blazing rows in the farmhouse kitchen with the father that wanted him to take on the family farm. His fledgling relationship with Lucille had been a godsend in that tempestuous period and had provided him with a bolt hole when it all got too much trying to defend his choices. 

Yet here he was seemingly treating Gordon in the same way he had resented all those years ago, the only difference being he was forcing his son towards university instead of agriculture. Would it really be so bad if Gordon skipped out on tertiary education? He’d only gone to university himself because it was a requirement of the World Space Agency rather than because he had any particular fondness for further study. Gordon had picked a career, a solid career, that didn’t require a university education and he was denying his son that freedom of expression due to his own skewed ideals. He didn’t even know if Gordon had a girlfriend to comfort and counsel him through these trying times; probably not, where would he have found the time around caring for Alan?

Maybe Scott was right. Maybe he had seriously underestimated his fourth son. It was time to look beyond the mediocre grades and instead start seeing the child, no, the young man he corrected himself, who showed such devotion to his family that he had tried to single-handedly take on the Department of Education because he knew in his core it was the right thing to do. 

Doing the right thing. Such lofty ideals were part of the reason why he hadn’t noticed what was going on under his own roof, he’d been so absorbed in the project that was to be Lucille’s legacy. Yet seemingly the son he had most overlooked was the embodiment of what he was trying to achieve; compassion mixed with determination. Gordon’s Olympic win definitely showed the determination, you don’t become a champion without focus, drive and a dedication to hard work. Maybe WASP _was_ the right place for Gordon. The aquanaut service would keep him physically stimulated and Gordon seemingly possessed a mature and caring side that would be suited to the peacekeeping ethos of the organisation. The world needed aquanauts. 

Possibilities began to flow and spark in Jeff’s head. His organisation, his dream, needed pilots, engineers and astronauts, perhaps his dream also needed an aquanaut. Most of the planet was covered in the oceans and it was a gaping hole in the capabilities of the outfit he had planned not to be able to undertake aquatic rescues. In the same way he had seen the possibilities in the paths the eldest three had chosen perhaps WASP could provide the training foundations for Gordon. If Gordon were to enrol in WASP then by the time the rescue business was ready to commence operations his fourth son could be a fully qualified submarine pilot ready to join the ranks among his elder brothers. Adding the skills of an aquanaut would allow him to help save many more families but in order for that to happen first he needed to fix his own and repair the gaping chasm between him and the son he had wronged. 

By the time Jeff made it to his own bed that night the level in the scotch bottle was considerably lower and his lofty visions considerably higher. 

xoxoxox

The apartment was bustling the next morning. Alan was moaning about having to go to school while first Gordon and then Scott chivvied him out of bed and made sure he had all his books for the day. It was a similar scene to that which had played out the day before although Jeff hadn’t been there to witness it having left early for the office as usual.

“Do I really have to go in?”

“Yes, you do. Dad would ground you for a month if he found you skipped school.” Gordon was stern and unmovable.

“But Scott…” The pleading was switched from one big brother to the other

“We went through all this yesterday Alan” there was an exasperation in Scott’s voice that could only be dragged out by a young teenager, “I’ll be here until at least Monday so we’ll have all weekend together. You are not missing class just because I’m here.”

“But you will be there after school, won’t you?”

“Yes, just like we were yesterday. Now will you please just eat some breakfast, we have to leave soon and I don’t want you going to school on an empty stomach.”

Jeff stepped into the doorway and the three sons around the counter froze at the unexpected movement. 

“Alan, eat your breakfast. Your brothers are right, you need to get moving.”

The peanut butter bagel Alan had been nursing started to be gulped down at an indigestion inducting rate. All moaning, in fact all conversation in its entirety, stopped in favour of heading out the door as swiftly as possible rather than incur the wrath of Jeff. For him to be at home on a week day was out of the ordinary and the boys were not inclined to stick around to find out why. Within minutes he was left in an empty apartment after giving the eldest two a stern instruction to come straight home once Alan was in school. 

Savouring the silence Jeff made himself a large coffee and awaited the return of Scott and Gordon. The caffeine injection was definitely needed, he had been up until the small hours with thoughts chasing round his head and when he did finally drift off his sleep had been troubled. Thankfully his diary for the day had been mercifully scant, the few appointments easy to rearrange. Jeff was not a man to shy away from problems but it had been a shock to realise that the biggest problems were under his own roof and of his own making.

He had barely finished the cup when Scott and Gordon returned and joined him in the lounge. Neutral territory.

“Boys, we have a lot to discuss.”

“We do?” the skepticism radiated off of Scott. Talks with their father were generally too one-way to be considered a discussion.

“We do. But please, hear me out first.” 

Gordon and Scott perched side by side on the couch, presenting a united front. Their expressions were stony, clearly expecting another example of their father laying down the law. Jeff took a deep breath. He’d always had an unshakable self-confidence; when facing the cruel realities of space or facing down a boardroom that self-confidence had carried him home safe and seen him through difficult situations. Now his faith in his own abilities, his abilities as a father, had been shaken. The silence in the room seemed to create a vacuum, a void that needed filling.

“I...I’ve not been around as much as I probably should have. Initially, when your mother first died, I threw myself into my work. I had to work hard to keep the family together, keep a roof over our heads and food on the table. The business was young then and times were tough. I don’t have that excuse now.”

Their current situation was a far cry from the early days of borrowing money and hoping the risks paid off. Looking back he should have realised he wasn’t the only one making sacrifices but grief and the scotch had clouded his judgement. As time wore on his use of a liquid crutch had lessened but he had still buried himself in his work, still relied on his sons to hold the fort and keep the home fires burning. But worst of all he hadn’t even realised they were doing it. He had forced his sons to grow up quickly, he shouldn’t have been surprised when they started to spread their wings and go their own ways.

“No, you don’t.” Scott wasn’t going to make this easy. All he’d heard so far was thinly veiled justification for neglecting them all, neglect that had carried on long after the debts were repaid.

Jeff steeled himself for words he’s never thought he would have to say. “I’m sorry. I should have been there.” He received a half-nod from Scott but Gordon wouldn’t even meet his eye, his own mistreatment still too raw and fresh for him to accept the apology. Jeff plunged on. “So Gordon, tell me about WASP.”

Gordon’s head snapped up. “What do you want to know?” The voice held an undertone of venom and suspicion.

“For a start I’d like to know why you want to join up.”

“Does it matter what I want?”

“Believe it or not, it does. Please Gordon.”

“I’m not cut out for college, you must be able to see that.” 

“You’d be fine if you’d only put your mind to it.” 

A glare from Scott prevented him from commenting further and Jeff had to bite his tongue to remind himself that this wasn’t just about him any more. He’d resolved to give Gordon his chance to explain. 

A reassuring hand on Gordon’s shoulder from Scott gave the younger sibling the confidence to speak out. Soon the words he had been bottling up tumbled out and Jeff witnessed an enthusiasm that had long been absent. Gordon had had plenty of opportunity to think on what he had been ripped away from since being dragged out of selection. Jeff sat there and watched as Gordon spoke with passion about teamwork, new skills, that chance to be active, to help people and to protect the environment. 

Jeff waited patiently until the words dried up, pausing to let it all sink in before responding. Everything his son had said, particularly the desire to help people, resonated strongly with what he himself wanted to achieve. Everything he heard cemented the decision he had made the previous night to allow Gordon to join WASP with a long term goal of his son becoming a rescue operative.

The two sons watched him from the couch, awaiting his pronouncement like prisoners awaiting sentencing. It pained him to see the mix of hope and fear tinged with an edge of resentment that graced Gordon’s features; he really had made a mess of things but it was time to start making amends and putting things right.

“Okay Gordon, I’ll support you in joining WASP as I should have done from the outset. I ask one thing though, that in the meantime you work with me to gain your pilot’s licence. Your older brothers could all fly by your age and there is a good chance you will need those skills before much longer.” Jeff met Scott’s eye and gave a half nod, an acknowledgement of his son’s request for no more secrets. “You see Gordon, I’m looking at moving soon and for very good reason…”


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long gap in updates - I was never intending it to take this long but life decided to take all my energy. Hopefully I can get this back on track. Creativity went a bit wobbly too so I've been experimenting with going wherever the inspiration takes me rather than writing in sequence. As a result this may feel a little disjointed as I wrote sections and then went back to fill in gaps. On the plus side the change in method means that ch16 is in the editing stage and ch17 is already half written too so I won't be leaving you hanging for so long. I hope you enjoy it.

The incoming call notification had Virgil scrambling for his phone, fumbling with the handset while trying to swipe a call accept icon that suddenly seemed too small and fiddly to be practical. It took him three hasty attempts before managing to complete the action correctly, allowing him to finally speak to the brother who had been frustratingly out of contact. Scott had been in LA for three days and Virgil was now desperate for news but he had promised he wouldn’t interfere lest he call at the wrong moment and inflame matters further. It had been a nail-biting wait, forcing himself to be patient and trust Scott to call when he could.

“Scott, how is it?” It took him a moment to register that the face on the screen wasn’t Scott’s despite what the caller ID proclaimed. “Gordon?” He was surprised to see a younger brother rather than an older one.

“Don’t sound so pleased to see me.” There was an air of the old teasing Gordon making a slow return.

“Sorry. Of course I’m pleased to see you,” and he genuinely was, the face that looked back at him was still too thin and pale for comfort but the hair was clean again and the eyes had lost their haunted glaze, “I just wasn’t expecting it. Where’s Scott?”

“He’s here too.” The scene on Virgil’s screen shifted quickly as the handset at the other end was spun round to reveal its rightful owner who gave a little wave. “He said he was going to call you so I asked if I could go first.”

“Well, how are you?”

“I’m....okay.” Virgil had made him promise in the past not to lie about how he was feeling, it was one of the reasons he had been pulling away; it didn’t count as lying if you just omitted the truth. “It’s been a strange few days.”

“I’ll bet.”

“For a start I’ve found out that flyboy over there gets ever so twitchy if anyone else is at the controls of a plane. You’d best hope you never have to take him as a passenger in that bumble bee of yours if it ever gets off the drawing board. Or was it more like a turtle, that beast was green wasn’t it?” The look of fear that crossed Virgil’s face would have been comical if it wasn’t so genuine and Gordon was given the sudden reminder that, as far as Virgil was concerned, he wasn’t meant to know about their father’s vision. He was quick with his reassurances. “It’s okay, Dad told me about his rescue plans”

“He still won’t tell Alan though” Scott called out from across the room, “Dad has taken him out to fetch ice cream so we can talk freely for a few minutes.”

“Ice cream?”

“Yeah, I think he’s just trying to cover some of his own guilt. He’s still no Dad of the year though.” Scott's tone was derisive and Virgil could tell that tensions must still be running high. “He’s going to have to tell him sooner or later, he can’t just spring it on the kid that he is being dragged out of school and shunted across the world when the island move happens.”

“What, you mean like he gave us time to prepare for the move to LA?” Gordon snorted. “I don’t know about you guys but me and Alan didn’t exactly get much warning when we left Kansas.”

This surprised the older two who had known all about the plan, the many arguments were etched in their memories. In this case the problem child had been John. Scott had been making the transition from university to the Air Force and Virgil had been busy preparing for his studies at Denver but John had been on a path that didn’t align with their father’s business plans. The fifteen year old, with a coveted place at Harvard nearly in his grasp, had begged to stay so he could finish high school without interruptions; he had worked hard to stay two grades ahead of the curve and an inter-state move could undo it all. Of course letting John live alone had been out of the question, and Jeff had not been prepared to delay the move, leading to flares of temper and defiance that none of them had realised the middle child was capable of. It was only when Grandma stepped in, offering to return from New Mexico to become custodian of the farm and care for John during that final year that their father relented. With all of the concerns over John and his university dreams it hadn’t occurred to either of them that the youngest two hadn’t been told about the move. Evidently their father’s policy of ‘need to know’ was long running. 

“Don’t worry Gords, Scott and I will make sure that Alan gets told. If Dad’s idea happens, and knowing Dad it probably will, Alan won’t just have another move sprung on him. I promise.” There was sincere honesty in those deep brown eyes and Gordon gave a subtle nod of thanks. “So tell me everything that has been happening over the last few days.”

Gordon recounted everything that had happened since Scott’s arrival, prompted by said older brother if he missed anything out. Virgil winced at the revelations. Even with the sanitised highlights he could tell that the last few days had been an emotional rollercoaster. In some cases the revelations were beyond his worst fears and he couldn’t help feeling proud of his little brother who had been living through harder circumstances than any of them had imagined.

“Which brings us to today,” Gordon brought the tale up to the present, “Dad’s decided I need to learn to fly seeing as this island he’s chosen isn’t exactly on the commercial air routes. Alan’s going to start learning too; Dad wasn’t happy about that idea but Scott reminded him that he started learning at Alan’s age. You should have seen him up there, Alan is an absolute natural.” Gordon’s voice glowed with pride at the achievements of his little brother.

“You didn’t do badly yourself” Scott cut in from across the room.

“So why were your knuckles white the whole time?”

“Hey, as you said, I just like being the one in control. It was no different when Dad was piloting and he’s clocked up more flight hours than the rest of us put together.”

“I can just imagine it” Virgil snorted, “you should’ve seen him supervising John when he was learning to drive.”

Gordon glanced across at Scott who had visibly paled at the memory, before turning his attention back to Virgil. “So yeah, I’ve now got to fit in pilot training and exams around getting back up to strength for WASP selection.”

“And WASP is definitely what you want? You aren’t just going along with it so you can get away from Dad? I know you’ll be able to do it, but please don’t enlist unless you’re really sure.”

Gordon wasn’t sure if that was the concerned older brother or the family pacifist speaking; WASP was still military after all and Virgil had made no secrets of his thoughts in that direction. But equally Virgil knew how stubborn he was and how he would never back down from a challenge and had managed to resolve his difference with Scott over the Air Force so he chalked the questions up to brotherly concern.

“Yeah, I’m sure. It’s a good life Virg, something I can really make a career out of and the opportunities for officers…”

“Officer?” This definitely surprised the distant sibling. The widened eyes elicited a slight blush from Gordon.

“Um, yeah, that was Scott’s idea.” He was still having a little trouble reconciling himself to the notion that he was cut out to lead. 

“Not just my idea” said brother called out from his perch on the bed, “the Marineville lot wanted to transfer you to officer training too. This time round you’ll just be applying for the officer steam from the beginning.”

“As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted,” Gordon shot Scott a glare of mock indignation, earning a chuckle from Virgil “it’s a good life. And yes, this time I’ll be trying out as an officer. I’ll have to redo the aptitude tests, different benchmarks and all that, but we’ve been looking into it and my scores were already at the right level. There’s just one additional aptitude test for officers that I never took before. I’ve tried an online practice test and did ok so I should be alright. I’m booked in to take it for real in a fortnight. After that it’s selection at Marineville again and then hopefully I’m in. It’ll take a few months but by the summer I should have my first posting. The officer intakes don’t happen as frequently as junior ranks so I’ve got time to train.”

“You seem to have it all mapped out and not a college course in sight.”

“Nope. Thanks, both of you. It’s...it’s been a hard few months and I couldn’t see a way out of it all.”

There was a noticeable slump in Gordon’s posture and the light went out of his eyes as the memories of his recent trials flooded back in. It broke Virgil’s heart to see how on a knife edge his brother still was and he knew he and Scott would need to keep a close eye on their younger sibling for a long while yet. At least Gordon had a goal to work towards again; they both knew his steely determination and drive to succeed. Once he had set his sights on a challenge nothing would stop him, the Olympics had proved that.

“Any time. And don’t be a stranger. If Dad starts getting on your case again or you just need to talk to someone you know where I am. I’ve been told my couch is pretty comfy too if this new schedule of training and flying lessons allows you any time off.”

“Admit it, you just want me back for my cooking” Gordon smirked.

“Maybe…” Virgil gave his best puppy dog eyes, eliciting a chuckle from both his brothers.

Any further chatter was interrupted by the sound of the apartment door crashing open, announcing the return of Jeff and Alan from the grocery store, followed by Alan’s shouts that if they didn’t get out there quick there would be no chocolate chip left for them. Both knew better than to treat this as an idle threat so with a hurried goodbye to Virgil they departed to claim their portions.

xoxoxox

Life soon settled into a new routine. Jeff still rarely made it back for dinner, they couldn’t expect miracles over night, but he was getting better at being home before Alan went to bed at least. Gordon suspected that had something to do with the ‘discussion’ Scott had with Jeff the night before he returned to his Air Force base. The voices that drifted through the firmly shut study door had shown a flare of temper from both sides and Gordon had been grateful Alan was already in bed and so not around to witness the argument. It was just as well Tracys were good at putting on a front, by the morning of Scott’s departure the tension had been firmly suppressed and Alan had been able to say goodbye to his eldest brother without any hint of bad feeling spoiling the moment. 

Where life before the Olympics had been a mix of school and swimming, so life for Gordon going forwards became a mix of physical training and flight theory with time in the air thrown in at the weekends. He passed the WASP officer aptitude test easily enough but the next available selection course date wasn’t until after his birthday, leaving him with several months to focus on gaining the appropriate endorsements on his pilot’s licence to allow him to transport himself to and from his father’s intended island base. 

Gordon wasn’t bad at flying but he didn’t possess the raw natural talent of his youngest sibling. He was competent and thorough with a steady hand but he couldn’t miss the looks of pride Jeff directed towards Alan as yet again the youngest of the family performed a maneuver as if he had been at the control yoke since birth. It didn’t stop at looks either, all too often Gordon found himself on the receiving end of an unfavourable comparison only this time it was against his younger brother as opposed to his older ones and the arena was cockpit rather than classroom performance. Evidently, for Jeff, old habits were hard to quell.

This time though Gordon wasn’t facing his troubles alone. Scott would check in with him occasionally until an overseas posting took him out of contact but Virgil was his real lifeline. Virgil made sure there was never more than a week between calls and often the gaps were smaller if he sensed Gordon slipping back and becoming more distant. The brother who had taken on the role of counselor seemed to have an uncanny intuition when it came to Gordon’s mood. 

The extended time around his father however was still proving difficult and Gordon found himself eagerly boarding a flight to Denver to catch a much needed break.

As ever, Virgil was there to meet him at the airport.

“Good flight?”

“It was ok.”

“Not tempted to crash the cockpit then?”

Gordon just rolled his eyes and carried on out to the taxi ranks. To his surprise though Virgil directed the cab to take them to the smaller private airfield out of town rather than the apartment.

“Sorry Gords” he got in response to his querying look. “You know Dad said you gotta keep up your air time and this was the only runway slot I could get.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know the deal.” One of the conditions of a weekend with Virgil was that he got some time in the sky to make up for the lesson he was missing with his father. “Are you alright with me taking up your baby?”

“I trust you” Virgil shrugged. He wasn’t quite as in love with and overprotective of his plane as Scott was of his, but neither was he going to let on to Gordon that he had had a long and in depth discussion with their father about Gordon’s ability and competence before he had agreed to help with Gordon’s pilot education.

Gordon always thought it odd that Virgil had a plane but didn’t bother to run his own car, although the longer he spent in the air the more he could see the appeal. Scott of course had always loved flight and it was no surprise to anyone that a big proportion of his allowance went on maintaining a craft that screamed billionaire playboy. Virgil’s choice was more subtle and practical, if operating your own private plane counted as practical; perfect for hopping around the country from his central base in Denver to visit family on his own schedule. Despite also being in possession of big enough allowance to afford it John had neither car nor plane having declared that flying commercial was much more sensible for his main coast to coast journey and he wasn’t one for pleasure flying; he was much more interested in what lay outside the atmosphere, far beyond the reach of a mere plane.

At the airfield Virgil maneuvered his little hopper out of the hanger he stored her in and then passed control over to Gordon.

“Go on then, show me what you can do” Virgil prompted after giving Gordon a quick rundown of the specific take off speed and other essential details he would need to operate the plane safely. He settled back in the co-pilot's chair, exuding a calm confidence despite itching to keep his hands on the controls; Gordon might be his brother and Jeff had given assurances that all would be well but Virgil was still uncomfortably aware that he has supervising an unlicensed novice pilot. 

His fears were soon dispelled once Gordon started going through the motions in textbook fashion including performing his own pre-flight checks despite having watched those same checks being performed just a few minutes earlier. A short burst down the runway and they were up in the air. It wasn’t graceful and Gordon lacked the finesse that came with experience but Virgil was pleasantly surprised at the amount of progress Gordon had made in such a short space of time.

The problem with flying though is that unless you are practicing something like aerobatics then just keeping a plane in the air is actually pretty easy, it’s the take off and landing that takes skill. They weren’t making a journey so there was no real navigation to do beyond avoiding the restricted airspace and corridors used by the commercial flights and the weather was clear so flying by instruments was unnecessary. All in all it was a thoroughly untaxing lesson, allowing them to relax and enjoy the time together.

“So how’s your project going?” Gordon asked as he banked to avoid flying directly over a village.

“It’s okay. I’m on track to be done by the summer.”

“What will you do after that? Move back to LA or stay out here?”

“Neither, hopefully.” Gordon gave his brother a questioning glance of surprise. “Got to get space rated for Dad’s project. Me and John’ll be heading out to Tracy College for that, just waiting for confirmation of a course place.”

“Space rated?” He had realised John would need to undergo astronaut training in preparation for life on a space station but most of the project specifics were still a mystery to him.

“Yeah. Someone’s got to be able to play taxi service for John and I might need to take a rotation on call monitoring; he can’t live off planet forever.”

“Sounds like plans are really coming together for it. Does this mean Scott will need to get space rated at Tracy College too?”

“Scott…” There was a heavy pause and Gordon took his eye off the sky to regard his brother. Virgil’s brow had furrowed into a frown and when he spoke again there was a heaviness that told of hidden arguments. “Scott isn’t joining, he’s sticking to the Air Force.”

This surprised Gordon. In the few conversations he had had with his father about the project, usually confined to a cockpit where Alan couldn’t overhear, Scott was talked about like Virgil was, as a committed member of the team. His role as first responder and pilot of the envisioned rocket plane had been presented in terms of undisputed fact. No wonder the topic made Virgil look stormy, he was a peacemaker and if Scott wasn’t fitting in with their father’s vision Gordon could imagine that the arguments had been many and explosive.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.”

“So what’s going to happen there? Surely you can’t manage with just the three of you?”

“I don’t know. I’d like to think there is a contingency plan but Dad seems so sure Scott’s going to change his mind and do it. They’re both as stubborn as mules though and neither wants to give up their dream. It’s a good project, the tech looks amazing and we could really save lives. I can see Scott’s point though, he’s made a life for himself away from Dad and, well, you know yourself what Dad can be like for giving orders.”

Gordon knew all too well what it felt like to be on the receiving end of those orders, particularly when they were at odds with your own plans. At least Scott had the advantage of physical distance as a buffer to the disapproval and if push came to shove, if Jeff cut Scott off as punishment, the Air Force pay was enough to live on even if it meant Scott had to change his lifestyle to suit the lower budget.

Gordon made the final approach back towards the airfield, diverting the full attention of both brothers to monitoring the landing. As with the take off it wasn’t polished and it wasn’t pretty but it was safe and Virgil found himself once again admiring just how far his brother had come in such a short space of time. He wondered if, given time, Gordon would join the team. Jeff hadn’t made any mention of Gordon taking on a role in the rescue organisation, even if he was now allowed to know of its existence, but there was no denying that having an extra pilot on books could only be a good thing. Maybe one day he and Gordon would fly together, the more time he spent with his brother the more he enjoyed the company although, Virgil reflected, if they were to fly as a team he would be happier if Gordon took the co-pilot’s position.

With the plane back on the ground and safely returned to her berth in the hangers Virgil pushed all thoughts of Gordon joining the rescue business out of his mind; unless their father issued the instruction there was no point even considering the option. And anyway, Gordon was heading off to the military like Scott had so who knew if he would even want to join the project. Better to just let their father know that the required flying lesson had gone without a hitch then settle back to enjoy the weekend.


	16. Chapter 16

Gordon and Alan returned to the apartment, not to the usual sound of silence, but instead to music and the smell of fresh brewed coffee. Alan was plenty old enough to walk home from school by himself but more often than not Gordon found himself outside the gates in the afternoons and Alan seemed to appreciate the company, especially on Fridays where, without the pressure of homework Gordon would sometimes take the long route back and go via the arcades.

Today, however, Alan had been keen to head straight home although Gordon hadn’t known why until they reached the apartment. He should have guessed something was up, normally his younger brother was racing ahead to maximise his time on the games machines but tonight Alan had been itching to get back.

“Virgil? I didn’t know you were coming home.”

Virgil just gave a knowing grin and made sure his mug was out of harms way before Alan could send it flying with his exuberant greeting.

“I take it you knew about this?” Gordon received a matching grin in return from his youngest sibling who had finally released the family teddy bear.

“Yup. It’s been killing me not to let on.”

The older two couldn’t help but notice Alan’s eyes tracking round the apartment and attempting to peer into the kitchen.

“Sorry Al” Virgil said apologetically, “John’s flight from Boston got delayed so he won’t be here for a few more hours. Actually, it’s a toss up who will be next out of him and Scott now.”

“John’s coming? And Scott?” Gordon couldn’t help but look astounded at the revelations. It took a minor miracle to drag John away from his studies and a major one to get all five brothers in the same place at the same time. They hadn’t even managed it at Christmas after Scott got posted abroad, their eldest brother had only finished his overseas tour a few weeks ago. Thinking about it the last time all his brothers had been in one place had been just after his Olympic win and the day of celebration that had felt far too short. “What’s the special occasion?”

Virgil looked at him with an expression of soft affection.

Alan looked at him like he was an idiot.

“Erm...your birthday?” Okay, now he knew Alan thought he was an idiot.

His birthday. On Monday he would be turning eighteen. It was an important milestone but not usually majorly significant, not like turning 21 which had been the big celebration year for Scott and Virgil. Eighteen wouldn’t normally warrant the family converging together from their far flung parts of the country. The confusion must have showed on his face.

“We just thought, what with your WASP plans, we didn’t know when we would next get the chance to celebrate all together. Scott can get sent pretty much anywhere at a moments notice and you’ll be the same one you’ve enlisted.” Gordon noticed that Virgil never defined the ‘we’ who came up with the plan to get everyone together for his birthday but he had a suspicious feeling that the man in front of him was probably the key player in it all. He was also aware that his place at WASP wasn’t yet confirmed but Virgil was treating it as a certainty; he appreciated his brother’s confidence in him. “John and Scott are both due in at about 7 tonight.”

As it happened John made it to the apartment next but only because Scott stopped to get take out on his way from the airfield. The eldest brother arrived laden with cartons and accompanied by tempting smells that had his brothers launching themselves on the unfortunate pilot in their haste to reach the food. When Jeff finally arrived a short while later it was to find all five of his sons sprawled on the lounge floor, chopsticks in hand as they shovelled noodles into hungry mouths. 

Five heads whipped round guiltily as he walked into the room.

“Sorry Dad, we should have waited for you.” Scott scrambled to get up off the floor but Jeff waved him back to his meal.

“No, no, you carry on. You must be hungry after your flights. There any left for me?”

Scott nodded and pointed through to the kitchen, his mouth already full again. Jeff went to investigate and soon returned with his own carton, retrieved from the warming unit. He settled into his arm chair rather than joining the huddle on the floor.

“So boys, everyone have a safe journey?”

There were mumbled answers to the affirmative and various nods and thumbs up signs given when mouths were too full to answer politely. The gathering was more subdued with Jeff in attendance, the random outbursts of laughter he had heard as he first unlocked the door fizzling away as topics of conversation stayed in the territory of the neutral and mundane. 

“So what’s the plan for this weekend then?” asked Gordon once the topics of school, work and training had been fully exhausted. “Or aren’t I allowed to know?”

“We thought we would keep it just family” said Virgil. “I don’t think much is planned really, except maybe a meal out tomorrow night.” He looked over towards their father for confirmation.

“That’s right,” Jeff confirmed, “I’ve booked a table for us tomorrow but the rest of the weekend is your own. You still need to fit in your school work” he looked pointedly at Alan who groaned in response “but there’s no big party I’m afraid.”

Gordon was secretly quite relieved to hear this. Unlike Scott and Virgil who’d had hoards of school and university friends to celebrate their 21sts with he was acutely aware that his own social circle was practically non-existent. His classmates had been more acquaintances than friends as all his energies had gone in to swimming or looking after Alan, and anyway, most of them were off at university now. And although he was swimming again as part of his fitness regime he had been keeping his distance from the swim squad he had been so cruelly ripped away from, the memories there were still too fresh and raw. 

“Suits me fine, I wasn’t expecting anything so it’s just nice to have everyone back.”

A badly stifled yawn from Alan put an end to the evening, giving the sudden reminder that it was late. Bodies began to protest at the foolishness of having a floor picnic after various amounts of air travel and the brothers hauled themselves up with varying degrees of dignity. The following night had the potential to be a late one and so, one by one, after clearing up the detritus of the meal, the family retreated to their private spaces to rest.

xoxoxox

Saturday evening found a flurry of activity in the apartment as six individuals all tried to get ready around each other. Bathrooms that were normally unused suddenly found themselves shared by far too many individuals all clamouring to use showers and mirrors at the same time. Bottles of shower gel were traded for tubs of hair gel as brothers found they had left various items behind.

“John, go and find out what is taking so long ” Jeff instructed when all but Scott and Virgil were gathered in the lounge. There was still plenty of time before their reservation but he abhorred lateness.

John rolled his eyes at being sent to play sheepdog but was careful to ensure he did it after he left the lounge, no need to direct unwanted attention to himself if their father was starting to get irritated. The voices issuing from Virgil’s room suggested both the missing brothers had ended up there; he stopped outside, rapped on the door, then strode in before waiting for an answer. He gave a little snort of laughter at the sight that greeted him.

Virgil’s room was strewn with clothes while the man himself was stood there half naked. A pile of discarded shirts was draped over a chair and John counted at least four pairs of pants strewn on the bed. Scott emerged from the closet brandishing two more sets.

“These are the last pairs” he waved the pants in Virgil’s direction, “but I think they are smaller than the last ones. Have you updated your wardrobe at all since high school?”

“Course I have. I’ve got smart pants, I just didn’t bring them because I knew I had stuff here.” 

“Problems?” John smirked from his place in the doorway.

“Yeah, idiot boy over there kinda forgot he’s bulked up a bit. Honestly, some of the stuff here looks like it would barely fit Alan.” The last two pairs of pants joined the others on the bed after it became clear they would struggle to go past Virgil’s knees, let alone do up and be comfortable for a meal out. “None of my stuff fits him either.”

“Well you’d better come up with something soon, Dad’s starting to get impatient.”

“It’s no use I’ll just have to go in my jeans, it’s either that or no pants at all” Virgil sighed. He dug through the holdall he had brought from Denver, pulled out the most acceptable pair of jeans he could find and yanked them on. A pair of shoes swiftly followed and moments later he was as ready as he could be. 

Trailing a few steps behind Scott and John as the trio made their way into the lounge he soon found himself subject to his father’s glare.

“Virgil, tuck that shirt in.” The order was barked out and he had no option but to comply. Unfortunately, stuffing the hem of his shirt into the waistband of the jeans only served to reveal the paint stain that marred the material. “On second thoughts…” Jeff glared at offending garment and Virgil sheepishly pulled his shirt back out to hide the stain.

“If Virgil can wear jeans, why can’t I?” whined Alan. Jeff didn’t dignify that with an answer.

“I presume you have a good reason for your...unorthodox outfit.”

“Dress pants don’t fit any more.” Virgil mumbled.

Jeff sighed. If that was the reason then it was far too late to go shopping to remedy the situation. While Scott and John could perhaps get away with swapping clothes Virgil was built on different lines to the rest of the family. He might have plenty of money at his disposal but what they lacked now was time, the jeans would have to do. At least he hadn’t chosen a venue that insisted on full evening dress in deference to the sons’ preferences; he knew they hated being overly formal.

xoxoxox

The Tracy name was well known throughout the city and securing the patronage of one of the wealthiest men in the country, if not the world, was not easy. Securing a repeat booking was known to be even harder and so if the restaurant itself had any issues with Virgil’s outfit then the management used their discretion and refrained from passing comment.

The top floor restaurant gave sweeping views over the cityscape from its panoramic windows but the family cared little for the view. Nor it seemed did most of the other patrons and the family felt uncomfortably under the spotlight as they were led through to a table near the back. A group of six was always going to draw attention on a night where every other table was a couple, it was one of the hazards of having a Valentine’s day birthday. A group of six comprised of the full complement of Tracy masculinity drew stares that bordered on rude and more than one man found himself being compared unfavorably to these most eligible of bachelors by his date. The family were used to attracting attention though, particularly when appearing as a unit, and the group successfully navigated the room seemingly unfazed by the other clientele. Appearances can be deceptive though and the family was grateful to be seated in a private alcove where they could relax out of the public eye.

The meal passed without incident but it wasn’t the most comfortable of experiences. For a start the food wasn’t really to any of their tastes. Gordon’s diet tended to lean towards carefully counted micronutrients with the occasional junk food binge and while this had eased now he no longer had a swimming coach analysing the composition of his plate he still wasn’t used to the offerings presented on lavish menu. In fact, despite the size of the family fortune only Jeff was really familiar with high end dining and that was mostly due to there being an expected standard at the business lunches or charity galas he attended. For the brothers all were in agreement that the Chinese take out of the night before had been the better meal.

As dessert drew to a close Jeff cleared his throat, drawing the attention of the rest of the table, although Alan still needed a swift kick under the table from Virgil to get him to sit up and focus properly.

“This has been a year of changes and I know there are many more changes yet to come. With Gordon turning eighteen I’ve been given the stark reminder of just how much he, and the rest of you, have grown up. I have every faith that Gordon will get into WASP and earn his place as one of the youngest officers in the history of the submarine service” he settled his gaze on his fourth son before continuing “You’ve shown me time and time again that you shouldn’t be underestimated but it’s a lesson that has taken me a long time to learn.” Gordon shifted uncomfortably at the attention and praise that was still so rare in his life.

“In just a few months time John and Virgil will both complete their postgrads and go on to Tracy College to further specialise in astronautics and aeronautics while Scott and Gordon could be posted to anywhere in the world to help protect our planet.” This earned John and Virgil a jealous look from Alan, there was no denying that the youngest of the family was following in the footsteps of his next but one older brother in terms of a passion for space. 

“I want you to know that I’m proud of you. All of you.” Each brother felt the force of their father’s attention in turn as Jeff looked at the assembled company, pausing to make eye contact with each one. Jeff, seeing his sons all gathered side by side, found himself struck by just how blessed he was to have such an impressive family. Somehow his children had turned into talented young men, often without him realising it, and he reflected that the skillset around the table was truly exceptional. Scott’s leadership abilities, Virgil’s creativity, John’s intelligence, Gordon’s determination, even Alan was showing an unnatural talent in the air; his sons were a force to be reckoned with as individuals and potentially unstoppable if they pooled their collective resources. “But tonight is meant to be about celebrating Gordon’s birthday which I’m sure you will find much easier to do without me around so this is the point where Alan and I will say goodnight and leave you four to your evening.” 

The four oldest brothers looked stunned as Jeff ushered an indignant looking Alan away from the table, the youngster clearly not happy about being excluded from the after party. As he passed Scott’s chair Jeff paused and handed something across to his eldest son. 

“Now Scott I’m trusting you to take charge but just remember that Gordon doesn’t officially turn 18 for two more days and as far as the state is concerned John is also still under age. Don’t make me regret this.” The instruction was quiet but serious.

Scott looked at the small rectangle of black plastic in his hands and swallowed. “No sir.”

And then the youngest and oldest of the family were gone.

“What was all that about?” asked John.

“I think Dad just gave us permission to hit the town” he carefully placed the card on the table where all four could see it “and he gave me his credit card.”

The seemingly innocuous piece of plastic was viewed with wide eyed amazement by Virgil and John while Gordon just stared after the retreating backs of the two departing Tracys in astonishment, the words of his father’s little speech still replaying in his mind; for once he was being acknowledged as an adult and treated as an equal to his older brothers. 

Scott settled the bill and the four brothers exited the restaurant into the chill February night, a city of possibilities open before them.

“So where now?” asked Scott as they walked along the sidewalk, skirting around the lines of people queuing to get into the various clubs and bars that dominated the district. “Where do the kids of LA go when they want a night out?” 

Three sets of eyes swivelled towards Gordon.

“How should I know?”

“C’mon Gordo, you must know _somewhere_ that’s lax on the IDs? Cos even if you can blag it Johnny boy there still looks every inch the freshman” Scott looked accusingly at John who was sporting a particularly preppy shirt and sweater combination. 

“I’m only six months off 21,” there was defensive indignation in John’s voice, “what makes you think I couldn’t get in?”

“Six months? May as well be six years. Have you _ever_ tried to get served?” 

John wilted under Scott's gaze knowing his brother’s words were true, he was both baby faced and lacking in interest in the messier side of the social scene at university which meant he was more likely to be found propping up the library stacks than a bar. 

“So,” Scott turned his attention back to Gordon, “where do you go on the weekends to get a drink?”

“Hmm...Croatia?” the sarcasm dripped off Gordon. “Yeah, Croatia was good; think you can fly us out there? The after party for the ‘59 World Championships was pretty sweet. Seriously guys, I’ve spent most of the last 5 years in training or away at competitions, the club scene wasn’t really on my radar.” After Scott’s derision towards John’s drinking habits, or rather the lack of them, he was feeling a little defensive.

“You weren’t away all the time though, there must be somewhere you go for fun.”

“Hmm...fun.” Gordon gazed up towards the sky, finger to his lips as though giving the matter serious contemplation. “Nope, not a lot of that round here. You and Virg might have been able to tag team and hit the bars back in Kansas but in case you’d forgotten there’s noone else here for Alan and he spends enough time on his own as it is without me sneaking out for the sake of a few drinks. And even if Dad didn’t notice my coach would have and I’d have been off the squad faster than you can scramble that jet of yours. Hitting the town the night after a competition is one thing but here in LA the best I got is taking Alan to the arcades.”

“Arcades you say?” asked John with a glint in his eye. “I’ve not been to one of those in a while and Virgil here owes me a round of air hockey.”

“What, you fancy losing again?” Virgil snorted at the idea of John being any sort of match for him at sports, even of the table variety.

“I did not lose, I was set to win ‘til Frankie barfed on the table.”

“When the hell was this?” Gordon asked, sensing the start of a heated debate between his next two eldest brothers.

“Seventh, maybe eighth grade. Me and Johnny both got an invite to the same party seeing as whizz kid here shared half my classes in middle school. The battle of the air hockey got cut short cos someone dared Frankie to try every colour of slushie except instead of mixing them he tried to force down a full cup of each one. Lucky escape for you, eh Johnny?”

“We’ll see at the rematch. And it’s John, thank you very much.” There was an arrogant confidence in John’s voice, coupled with mild annoyance over the repeated use of the nickname; Scott might have got away with it but he wasn’t going to put up with it from Virgil too.

“Seriously, you guys want to go to the arcades?”

“Sure,” Virgil shrugged “it could be fun. What do you say, Scott?”

The group looked to their de facto leader who shivered in the cold night air.

“Why not, if it’s still open. It’s either that or head home so lead the way.”

xoxoxox

A quick taxi ride later and the four found themselves outside a 24-hour gaming centre, the lights and sounds of the various machines spilling out into the night. John grinned at the sight of all the games on offer and even Virgil, the brother least likely to pick up a console, looked eager to get stuck in.

Scott led the group in, bought a load of credits for each of them, and disappeared with a quick promise that he would be back soon once he had located some drinks for them. A few short minutes later and he was back with an armful of bottles; he distributed two to each brother.

“Mountain Dew?” Gordon looked at the lurid coloured drinks with incredulous surprise; it wasn’t exactly what he had been expecting.

“Look, the liquor store over the road didn’t have a lot of choice and this place has a strict no alcohol policy. That being said,” he continued with a glint in his eye “go easy on the blue one and if you need a top up just ask.” He patted a slight bulge in his jacket that hadn’t been there previously.

Gordon cracked the lid on the blue bottle, noticing it was already unsealed, took a swig and instantly felt the tang of spirits hit the back of his throat with a kick that left him wondering how much of the bottle was actually still Mountain Dew. Whatever Scott had added to the mix was strong but then so was some of the stuff he had sampled after competitions, he held his brother’s gaze and swallowed without reacting, earning himself an approving nod from Scott and leaving himself with the suspicious feeling that he’d just passed some sort of test.

He’d always been a stage removed from his elder brothers. John might not be that much older than him but being bumped up two grades, or occasionally three for some subjects if it was true he had been taught alongside Virgil, had left a chasm between them even without taking their differing interests into account. Scott and Virgil had always been the cohesive unit, John had existed alongside them if the middle brother had been forced to join the crowds and he and Alan had always been the kids left behind. To cross the social divide was a new experience for Gordon but one he was enjoying.

The group worked their way through the banks of machines, settling old scores and generally slipping back to a more carefree stage of life. Battles were won and lost and the undisputed master of air hockey was unanimously declared to be Virgil, a decision that was greeted with a decided pout from the middle brother who’d had his eye on the title. It certainly wasn’t how Gordon had expected to celebrate his birthday but then he hadn’t really expected to celebrate it at all. 

Thanks to Scott’s illicit supplies it was a slightly stumbling group that finally made it back to the apartment in the small hours of the morning, taking the exaggerated care of the drunk not to bump into things and risk waking the other occupants. After some hurriedly whispered goodnights Gordon headed off to his room, stopping only to grab some water to soothe the inevitable headache he would have in the morning. He was feeling happier than he had done in years and he was sure that wasn’t just down to the drinks; he hadn’t realised quite how much he enjoyed his brothers’ company or how much he missed them when they were away. He went to crawl in under the covers but couldn’t help giving a little smile when he realised he would not be sleeping alone as a significant heap of plushies now adorned the foot of his bed. John might not have been master of air hockey but even after so much to drink he’d practically needed to be carried home, he was definitely king of the claw machines.


	17. Chapter 17

If Gordon’s journey out to Marineville for officer selection had been different to his first visit to the base it was nothing compared to the contrast of the journey home. This time his journey north had needed no furtive sneaking off, no cover stories and no lies. There had still been plenty of butterflies in anticipation of the trials ahead but he had faced those trials with the blessing and support of his family. His father had even travelled to the airport with him rather than entrusting him solely to a driver. 

The journey south, however, was accompanied by butterflies an order of magnitude greater. 

As he exited Marineville to board the bus back to the airport it was impossible to miss the imposing hire car in the visitors’ parking lot or the even more imposing man stood next to it. So far he had managed to maintain a level of anonymity but as he left the cluster of participants he was acutely aware of the whisperings behind him. He ignored the mutterings and strode over to his father, his head held high, it didn’t matter if they worked out who he was now, he knew he had earned his place on his own merits.

“So Gordon, how did it go?” There was still that look of pre-emptive sternness, as though Jeff was waiting to receive another mediocre report card.

Gordon couldn’t stop the grin that flashed across his face or the air of cocky smugness, he was riding the wave of success again and it felt good. “Aced it. The standard was a lot higher and only about a third of us got through but when the next intake comes around you are looking at the newest recruit to WASP.”

The sternness dropped away and was replaced by the look of pride Gordon had seen directed at his brothers far more than himself. “Good, son. You can tell me about it on the journey home.”

As they headed away from the base Gordon recounted the tests and challenges he had faced. For Jeff it was like having a much younger Gordon back, the one who had regaled him with tales of race wins and given blow by blow accounts of dives, turns and sprint finishes. His fourth son spoke freely and animatedly in a way he hadn’t heard for years and Jeff realised just how much of his sons’ lives, all of them, he had missed out on by burying himself in his work and leaving the boys to fend for themselves. He was trying to be more involved again, to listen to them, but his sons had gotten used to existing without him around. All too often he’d come in to hear Gordon ending a call to one of the others, usually Virgil, or arrive home just as Alan was finishing telling Gordon about his day. He rarely got to hear their news now and was almost never the first to be told; it didn’t make it any easier knowing this was a situation of his own making. 

Jeff drove them, not to the main Marineville airport, but to a much smaller private air strip just out of town. As they turned off the route being followed by the shuttle bus Gordon kicked himself for not realising sooner that they wouldn’t be on the regular flight. Of course they wouldn’t, his father hadn’t taken a scheduled flight in years.

As they entered the cockpit of the jet Jeff slipped into the co-pilot’s position leaving the main pilot’s seat for Gordon. It had been an intensive few months going from minimal experience at the controls through to being able to take charge of the family jet. His swimming training had always prevented him from experiencing this part of the family education before but now his time in the skies had him thrown in at the metaphorical deep end in the race to get qualified before starting WASP training. Scott of course had gained his private licence on his seventeenth birthday, desperate to achieve official recognition at the earliest possible moment, and Virgil and John hadn’t been much older than the official minimum themselves. Gordon’s dedication had been tested as he crammed in what the others had spent years learning gradually. 

This was where the butterflies came in.

He still wasn’t yet able to fly unaccompanied but he was getting closer. Today though it seemed he was to be tested to a whole new level. A two hour flight down the coast, taking off from an unfamiliar runway, was a jump up from the short flights he had taken until now. To make that leap while utterly exhausted following a gruelling three day selection course was perhaps a step too far.

He looked to his father for confirmation that this really was what was expected of him and received only a silent nod in return but if there was one element of being a Tracy that Gordon had truly mastered it was not backing down from a challenge. He pushed the tiredness away, buried the self-doubt with it, and with Jeff next to him scrutinising his every move he requested permission from the tower and taxied out onto the runway.

Jeff stayed silent as Gordon completed the maneuver. He watched the precise and controlled movements his son made, finding little to pick fault with despite watching with a highly critical eye. He knew Gordon must be desperate for his bed, the dark bags under his eyes a testament to what his body had been subjected to, but he needed to be sure his son would be capable of rising to a challenge. Now that he knew Gordon had been accepted into WASP and would receive rigorous training on all manner of submersibles his son changed status from dependent child to potential rescue operative. 

He had already started considering the possibilities of expanding the scope of his organisation to include water rescues, indeed he already had the first concept sketches for a submarine, but for that to become a reality he needed an aquanaut. Being accepted into WASP was a start but until Gordon held both his pilot's licenses, for both up in the sky and under the waves, Jeff wasn’t yet ready to consider his fourth son as a full part of his vision and so for now he was content to watch, and wait, and plan, leaving Gordon ignorant of his ideas.

xoxoxox

Barely a week after the selection course the letter arrived confirming what Gordon had already been told at the end of the trials, that he would be joining the next officer training intake. Even though the contents of the letter were no surprise it was still reassuring to see it in black and white, indisputable proof that WASP had confidence in him and that his future path was set. 

“So, when do you start?” Jeff asked across the dinner table.

“Huh?” Gordon snapped his head up in surprise, he had been oblivious to the room around him as he read the letter through several times, drinking in the validation it gave him while butterflies fluttered in his stomach at the prospect of actually going off and doing it. “Oh, um, beginning of July, then it’s…”

He didn’t get any further. The scrape of chair and the clatter of discarded cutlery cut him off as Alan flew from the room and disappeared down the hallway, the slam of a bedroom door confirming where he had gone to ground. Jeff sighed and half rose from the table, his expression showing anger at the rudeness of the departed teen, but Gordon waved him down. 

“No, I’ll deal with this.” 

Gordon had been sensing the impending storm ever since he got back from Marineville. Amongst the congratulations of the family one voice had been noticeably absent and it seemed that the official confirmation letter was all that had been needed to bring it to a head. The last thing he needed was for their father to make a difficult situation worse by laying down the law.

Alan’s room was the typical teenage mess. Clothes lay discarded on the floor and various electronics were piled on surfaces next to empty water glasses but in amongst all the mess it was clear where his passions lay. It was like wandering into an untidier version of John’s room. Star maps adorned the walls and there was a model rocket that Gordon had every confidence could make it into space if that was how Alan had designed it. The difference between this room and the usually unoccupied one next door, apart from the mess, were the newspaper cuttings, article print outs and piles of Olympic memorabilia that vied for space with the astronomical paraphernalia. Dotted around the room was evidence of a devotion to Gordon and the swimmer was sure you could piece together the story of his sporting career if only you took the time to collate the collection. 

“Alan…”

“Leave me alone, it’s what you’re going to do anyway.” The voice was muffled, smothered by the pillow in which Alan was buried face down.

“Alan, please, talk to me.” Gordon picked his way carefully across the room and sat on the edge of the bed next to the sprawled figure. The only answer he got was a choked sob and he felt a wave of guilt at the upset his brother was feeling.

“I hate it here. I hate it. I hate it.” Alan sat up and glared at his brother, there was venom in the voice as anger crept in around the upset. “Everyone gets to leave and I’m going to be stuck here on my own. Maybe Virgil will add me to his pity list and call me cos you sure as hell won’t have the time. I don’t want to be his next pet project and charity case though.” 

Alan’s words cut deep, as he had intended them to, and Gordon found himself wondering if that was all he’d been to Virgil, a project to feed Virgil’s desire to help people. Surely not? The friendship and growing bond between them felt real enough but the familiar doubts began to creep in about his self worth. He tried to shake them off, knowing the dark places such thoughts could lead him to.

“That’s if Virg can even make time for me in his busy schedule once he goes off to Tracy College. Why the hell does he need to get space rated anyway? He’s never shown any interest in being an astronaut before. Fine, John’s pretty much had his name down for the space programme since birth but why does Virgil get to go too?”

So that explained the animosity towards Virgil, Alan was harbouring a deep jealousy that he was getting to do something that was Alan’s own dream. The youngest Tracy had always made it clear that he would be the third of that name to head into space after his father and middle brother and yet here was Virgil taking his spot, seemingly on a whim. This, coupled with the growing bond between Gordon and Virgil, had evidently ignited a burning resentment.

A shuddering breath wracked the Alan’s body as the primary reason for his upset flooded back into his mind. “I..I don’t want you to go.”

Whatever the issues were with Virgil, Gordon couldn’t shy away from the fact that he had been slowly drifting away from Alan to set up a new life. He had been Alan’s primary source of company for so long, had been a confidante and carer to the younger boy, and now he was heading off leaving Alan facing a future of loneliness. Their father was trying to be more involved but he was still a virtual stranger in Alan’s life and had a lot to learn about parenting teenagers. 

He wanted to let Alan know that it would all be ok. Wanted to tell him that soon enough he would be out of this hateful city and in a place where their father and at least some of his brothers would be around a lot more. He wanted to tell him about the rockets and the space station and everything that he knew would ignite his little brother’s passion. But he couldn’t. Even if their father hadn’t expressly forbidden it there was still a fundamental issue in that the island wasn’t actually theirs yet and until the deeds were signed and move confirmed he just couldn’t plant the seeds of the dream in Alan’s mind if there was any chance of the dream crashing down. Instead he had to make do with platitudes that must have felt empty to the devastated teen.

“It’ll be ok, you’ll see.”

“Will it?” The words were spat at him.

“It will; trust me on this. I’m not going anywhere for a little while yet and I’ll still be able to call, I’m going to be at Marineville not Mars. Those first 6 month of training will be pretty intense but I’ll still get _some_ time off.”

“And what about after that? What about when you aren’t at Marineville but you’re getting sent all over the place like Scott does? You won’t be able to just pick up the phone or head back for a weekend if you’re under water on the other side of the world. You may as well be on Mars then.”

Gordon slung an arm around his younger sibling, drawing that smaller form into a hug. He half expected Alan to pull away but he took it as a good sign that the anger was burning out when Alan acquiesced and leaned in heavily against him.

Alan felt like his whole world was dropping away. Of course he had known this moment would come but the arrival of the letter had just hammered home the inevitability of the situation. He felt angry at Gordon, angry at their father and more than a little angry at himself. He was fifteen for goodness sake, he shouldn’t be needing hugs from his big brother, but he still didn’t pull away from that warm hold. There was something comforting about those strong arms, honed through years of hard exercise, that made him feel safe and with that feeling of safety came the assurance of familial love. He clung to it, knowing that all too soon his last brother would be leaving just like the others had; his big family had run out, he was the last and he would be alone.

Of course he had been alone before, Gordon had been away enough times at competitions that he was capable of fending for himself but this time was different. This wasn’t just a few days with the excitement of following the swimming results to keep him occupied, this was a whole new future and he was facing the prospect of being alone with the father who seemed barely aware of his existence. The next few years stretched bleakly ahead of him leaving a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“None of us know what the future holds but even when I’m not here you aren’t going to be on your own. You’ve got four big brothers and we all care about you, you will always be able to get hold of one of us. I need to do this though, Al. If it wasn’t Marineville it would have been college somewhere and it won’t be much longer before you’re choosing what you want to do with your future too.”

There was a damp sniff. “Gonna miss you.” The admission was a quiet whisper but it stabbed deeply into Gordon’s heart. 

“Gonna miss you too, Sprout” 

They sat there a while longer, each lost to their silent thoughts but still needing that physical contact. Gordon sincerely hoped it would be okay. He’d been so focussed on his own future and excited about the prospect of a fresh start and fresh challenges that he hadn’t fully considered what he would be leaving behind, or rather who he would be leaving behind. He had been looking out for Alan for nearly five years and now he would be leaving. Alan’s whole life had been punctuated by loss as first his mother, and then the brothers who had stepped up in her place, disappeared one by one. Now he would be adding another loss to the pile leaving Alan behind with just the father who had been far too distant for far too long.


	18. Chapter 18

John closed the apartment door and basked in the silence. The last few weeks had been awful but the last few days had been hellish. If you had asked him two days ago what had been the hardest part of this summer he would have answered without hesitation his thesis defence interview, not because he had any difficulty with his project but because, even after 4 years at Harvard some of the faculty still struggled with his presence. 

He had bounced onto the quad aged sixteen, looking more like twelve, and instantly made a name for himself by criticising the work of one of the more well respected professors on campus. It probably hadn’t helped that he had been right. Since then he had been dogged by whispers of ‘Daddy’s money’ or heckled as an android freak as he eschewed the company of the peers that would never truly be peers due to the gaps in both age and intellect. University had been a bittersweet mix of unbridled access to learning mixed with a social web to navigate that made high school look like an insignificant warm up. The culmination of it all had been his thesis defence in front of a panel who didn’t know whether to be intimidated by him or offer him a cookie for being a good boy. Still, he was walking away from it all, with dual honours and a postgraduate distinction, at an age not dissimilar from those just starting their higher education journey.

The troubles and torments of university, however, had nothing on the hell on Earth that was Boston airport for an extended period of time. He could now categorically say that this had been the worst part of the summer. The route between east and west coast seemed to be plagued by delays but this, his final time of making the journey, had topped the lot. Being held up for an unspecified period of time in an airport lounge had brought out the worst in humanity and after a delay that had pushed past 36 hours in the end he would be quite happy to never see another human ever again. With the apartment door firmly shut on the outside world he fully intended to recharge and bask in the solitude before Alan got home from school.

He padded up the hallway to deposit the travel bag containing a few meagre essentials in his room but never made it that far.

The apartment might have been silent but it wasn’t empty. His room was next to Alan’s and through the open door he could see that self same teenager sat cross legged on the bed, head set on, controller in hand and eyes glued to the screen that flashed with neon laser cannons and moved at a dizzying pace. Part of him wanted to tiptoe on past, pretend he hadn’t spotted his younger brother, and collapse onto his own bed. John could have sworn that he hadn’t done anything that could penetrate the teenager’s electronic cocoon but before he had crossed the doorway Alan’s head whipped round and fixed him with an intense blue stare.

Alan paused the game, dropped the controller next to him and slid off the headset. He continued to stare in a way that he could see was making his older brother uncomfortable, holding the eye contact that always made John squirm a little, but at this point he didn’t care.

The weeks before Gordon’s departure had been busy. With a fixed deadline firmly etched on the calendar Jeff had ramped up the pressure on Gordon to gain his pilot’s licence and all the myriad of special endorsements he would need beyond the basics in order to complete a cross-continental journey solo. Alan wasn’t quite sure why such a high rated licence was necessary but he had appreciated all the extra time at the airfield it necessitated. Almost every weekend had been spent there so that Gordon could get in the required practice and he had always tagged along, partly to spend more time with Gordon and partly in the hope of getting a lesson himself; it turned out flying was something he had a flair for and he relished those precious moments in the cockpit. But then Gordon had gained his licence and the lessons had dried up. Time in the sky went from being a priority to something his father was too busy to provide. It rankled that he wasn’t worth the effort. 

And then the dreaded day had come. The day he lost the brother he was closest to to the military might of WASP. He’d probably come across as petulant and moody, his goodbyes stilted and brief, but the sullen exterior had been his armour protecting him from breaking as something inside him died. He hadn’t even been able to go with Gordon on the trip up the coast as had been the original plan. A last minute change had seen their father disappear off on some mysterious overseas errand, leaving Virgil to play taxi service to the WASP to be. He had begged to go too but unfortunately for him the start date for Gordon had coincided with Scott having some leave and Virgil was staying up north to indulge in some oldest brother bonding time. So he had been left behind, alone in the apartment, with the promise that John would have arrived by morning. 

Morning had dawned but the promised sibling hadn’t appeared. The logical side of him knew there would be a perfectly rational explanation for John’s delay but the emotional side of him just added it to the heap of rejection he was feeling. No one gave a damn about him. Noone cared what he was doing. He’d turned right around and headed back into his room to kill zombies. When the second morning dawned and he was still alone the only difference it made was that the zombies were replaced by asteroids. 

John was pinned uncomfortably by the stare. Everything about Alan screamed out that he was issuing a challenge, daring John to pass comment. If he had ignored John’s presence he probably would have been left alone but John was a Tracy too and as with all Tracys he never could resist a challenge. 

“No school today?” he queried, one eyebrow raised in preemptive skepticism.

“Does it look like it?”

“What it looks like is you playing video games on a Tuesday in term time. The news didn’t mention any schools being flattened by freak hurricanes so why are you here?”

Alan just shrugged and went to pick up his controller again.

“Alan!” 

“What?! It’s not like there’s any point me being there.”

“There is always a point to school.”

“Yeah? Well I’m not learning anything there, the stuff they set is just insulting.”

This was one point John could empathise with, boredom in the classroom was a familiar feeling to him. He felt lucky that he had met forward thinking teachers early on in his school career. Teachers that had put the effort in to find out his level rather than being happy to have a coasting child in the class that didn’t need their assistance. The result had seen him progressing through grade school at a pace that, while it still felt slow to him, at least meant he wasn’t inflicted with the full, tortuous twelve years. Alan on the other hand had been forced to stay firmly in his age grade. 

“What about your friends, surely you’re bored here without them?”

That just earned him an eye roll.

“Can we just skip the questions and head straight to the part where you lecture me.”

“Would it make a difference? I’m not Dad but you do realise he is going to be majorly pissed when he finds out, don’t you?”

“He’ll only find out if you tell him.”

“You think he won’t find out from school?”

Alan just sighed.

“Seriously Johnny, Gordon and I got all comms from school diverted directly to us years ago. I’ve already responded to their email.”

“You and Gordon did that?” He was secretly a little impressed that his brothers had found a way to bypass the school systems although he was concerned that their father had seemingly never noticed.

“Well, okay, I did that. Gordon’s not so hot on the technical stuff but it was his idea. Dad’s never been that great at dealing with letters and permission slips so I just got in through a school admin account and updated the contact details. If it’s not a report card he isn’t interested.”

John decided not to pass comment on the low level hacking his baby brother had pulled off. Instead he picked his way across the minefield that was Alan’s floor to join his little brother on the bed. The mattress felt deliciously soft compared to the plastic seat upon which he had been forced to spend the night and he felt his bones sigh in relief. His own bed was still calling out to him but his big brother instincts were screaming at him to fix things, even if he wasn’t entirely sure what he needed to fix. The screaming won. He leaned across to grab a second controller off the cluttered bedside unit and synced it into the game.

“So, what’re we playing? I don’t recognise this one but then there wasn’t much time for gaming at Harvard.”

Alan looked bemused by the turn of events. Scott held an authority that demanded respect, Virgil would take a softer and more caring approach, Gordon provided a mix of straight talking and fun whereas their father subscribed to the school of parenting that was mostly indifferent until an indiscretion was unearthed. John was still a bit of an unknown entity, he’d never taken on the role of authority figure for Alan and he couldn’t work out his brother’s strategy. 

“Uh, it’s something I made myself.” Alan disconnected his headset and the background music of the pause screen sounded out harshly in the otherwise quiet apartment eliciting an involuntary wince from John. He guiltily turned the volume down to a more comfortable level before resuming play.

They sat side by side in silence for a few minutes, blasting asteroids and navigating their way through a fast moving debris field. The game concept appeared simple and John wondered why Alan had done it; it wasn’t like he couldn’t afford to stock up on the commercially available games.

“Games design is a new one for you, this a school project or something?”

John sensed the eye roll even without taking his own eyes off the screen.

“Hardly. School sucks.”

“So, why make the game?”

“It’s not about the game. I wanted to see if I could model a debris field. Thought if I could get it right it could be good training, you know, before astronaut school.” 

“I think you’ll find Tracy College already has their own simulators. How do you even know this is accurate.” Alan had made no secret about his desire to head into space and it looked like that was still the life plan. Part of John hoped the game wasn’t accurate, the objects were flying in thick and fast and he was struggling to react in time to find a clear path for his craft and guide it through. Alan, on the other hand, was having no such difficulties; his movements were lightening fast and the game seemed to hold no challenge for him.

“Borrowed your books.” Alan set his own controller down as John’s ship took a direct hit and exploded in a mass of technicolour pixels that ended the game. He stretched out and plucked a weighty tome off the edge of his desk.

“Borrowed? I don’t remember you asking.” John recognised the volume as one of the few undergraduate text books he had investing in the hard copy of. Slips of coloured paper stuck out at intervals and the pages were rather more worn and well thumbed than he remembered. 

Alan pointedly ignored the question and instead flipped through to the relevant pages. 

“I’m not sure if I got this bit right though. I struggled to combine the effect of an explosion induced debris field interacting with a meteor shower.”

However John had been expecting his talk to go with Alan, it hadn’t been like this. He soon found himself drawn into an animated discussion of the core principles of astrophysics and how material behaved in a vacuum. Alan’s grasp of the subject, considering he was entirely self taught, surprised the elder Tracy. On his rare visits home Alan had always pestered him to go star gazing or asked him his thoughts on the latest developments in astronaut training but he’d had no idea that Alan’s interest had extended into him seemingly attempting to study most of the first year of his Harvard course from home. No wonder the kid was bored at school. 

When Jeff returned later that night it was to find the two boys deeply engrossed in some project or other. Books and piles of scribbled notes lay scattered around them and John’s fingers danced through lines of holographic code as he pointed out some facet or other to the younger boy who seemed to hang on his every word. He assumed John was helping Alan with his homework and thought no more of it as he settled down to his own evening. 

xoxoxox

“Mr Tracy, a Miss West is on the line for you.”

Jeff frowned at the unexpected intrusion from his personal assistant. “Miss West?” He couldn’t place the name.

“She says she is calling from the High School, Sir”

“Put her through then.” He paused a moment until the slight click indicating a change in caller reached his ears. 

“Mr Tracy? I’m Sarah West, Alan’s home room teacher.” The woman on the other end of the call sounded slightly nervous and with good reason, the Tracy reputation was formidable and seeing Alan’s name on her class list when he had joined the school had led to rounds of commiserations in the faculty lounge.

“Miss West, what can I do for you?” He tried to keep the puzzlement out of his voice. The last time he had received a call from the school, or any kind of communication now he came to think about it, had been over Gordon’s suspension. He hoped he was not in for a repeat of that embarrassing incident.

“I just wanted to check on how Alan was doing. The class are all missing him and hope he is able to return to school soon.”

Jeff understood the words being spoken but the actual sentiments made no sense. As far as he was concerned Alan was at school at that very moment. He kept his voice carefully neutral.

“I thank you for your concern Miss West. I will certainly pass on your regards when I see Alan this evening.”

“Thank you Mr Tracy. Please accept my best wishes for you and all your family, it can be so hard when these things happen. Please keep me informed of his progress through the parent portal and once Alan is well enough to come back we will look at putting a catch up and transition programme in place for him. Alan is a bright boy and I have every confidence that he will be able to catch up with these missed weeks.”

“Thank you Miss West. I will of course keep you informed. Now if you will excuse me.”

“Of course Mr Tracy, goodbye.”

“Goodbye Miss West.”

Missed weeks. The words rang out in his head, causing him to rub his temples. Trouble at school had always been Gordon’s domain, he’d been gone for months but still his influence was being felt. Alan had always taken after John until now; good grades, generally studious and with a passion for space. Whatever was going on Jeff knew he needed to nip it in the bud. Pausing only to inform his PA that he would be heading out for lunch and might not return that day Jeff headed back to the apartment.

Jeff found Alan in his room, engrossed in some project or other. He rapped smartly on the doorframe, breaking the teen’s concentration and causing him to look round in surprise. The look Jeff was treated to wasn’t one of fear or remorse though and there was certainly no sign of guilt at being caught where he shouldn’t.

“Alan, my study. Now!” He strode off down the hallway without waiting for a response.

Alan sighed and followed, knowing that to ignore a direct command would be foolish. By the time he reached the study Jeff was already behind the desk in his customary position for dispensing judgement, a situation Alan had rarely been in but had certainly heard about often enough from Gordon. He was more than a little intimidated at the prospect of what was to come but he tried not to let it show as he stood there, ramrod straight, waiting for his father to make the opening move.

“So Alan, I had an interesting call from Miss West today. Explain yourself” 

The words caused Alan’s stomach to drop, there was no way he could pass today off as an isolated incident now. He had been signing off on his absences via the parent portal but if his teacher had actually called up then it was likely his father knew everything. Not knowing what to do for the best he opted to say nothing. The silence stretched out uncomfortably as he felt himself being appraised by eyes as hard as flint.

“I see. Let’s keep this simple. How long have you been skipping school for?”

“Since the beginning of the semester.” There was no point lying about it now. After his few days of indiscretion when Gordon first headed off to WASP John had made sure he went off to school each day. At the end of the summer holidays though, with John and Virgil departed for Tracy College, there was no one to force the issue. September had arrived and with it the start of a new school year but among the faces arriving for a fresh round of learning Alan’s had been notably absent.

“Why? Your teacher seems to be under the impression you are unwell. Are you unwell?” The skeptical lilt to the voice and raised eyebrow would have made even John proud.

“No.”

“So why are you risking failing high school?” 

“Failing it?” Alan snorted “School’s boring. I’d be able to get my diploma now if they’d just stick me in the right classes, then I could be done with the place.”

“And what makes you think you could complete your diploma now if you won’t attend class” 

“John did.” Alan’s chin jutted out in defiance and Jeff was given a sudden and uncomfortable reminder of another son who had found school far too easy. The arguments may have had a different focus but Alan wouldn't be the first Tracy to have found the system too limiting, the difference being that John had been fast tracked before the boredom got too much. “I’m not learning anything at school. It’s not like I’m just flunking out though, John’s been sending me some stuff through that’s far more interesting.”

“That’s as maybe but did John tell you to just ditch classes? I seem to remember him maintaining an exemplary attendance record”

For the first time Alan felt a wave of guilt, the weight of it causing him to bow his head in shame. John may have agreed with him that the school work he was being set was far too easy and been coaching him on more challenging topics to feed his thirst for knowledge on all things astronomical, but his brother would never have condoned him skipping class. He was not going to let John take any of the blame for his choices.

“No, Sir.” 

“I see.”

Alan wasn’t quite sure what it was his father saw as he stood there being appraised like some interesting specimen. There was another drawn out silence. He could almost hear his father’s thoughts as he considered his next move.

“Show me.” Alan’s head jerked up in confusion. “Persuade me. A key skill you would learn in school, if you were there, is how to present a well balanced and constructed argument. Prove your case. I’ll be here waiting.”

Alan had been expecting some sort of reprimand, either a bawling out or a quietly pronounced punishment. So far he had received neither and he was feeling a little on the back foot but then his father had a flair for the unexpected, it’s what made him a formidable adversary in the boardroom. He retreated to his room to think upon the challenge. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to prove, didn’t have a clue what his argument was or what he wanted to achieve but he knew he had better come up with a plan fast. It felt like he was being offered a lifeline of some sort but a lifeline that had the potential to cut you down if grasped in the wrong way.

He retreated into his room and sat down at the desk, the detritus of his latest project from John scattered in front of him where he had abandoned it at his father’s command. What did he want? He knew he didn’t want to go back into that hell-pit high school, each day of drudgery just sapped the life out of him, but how could he prove to his father that school was only holding him back? He gazed unseeingly as the scribbled formulae he had been working on, all the time conscious that his father wouldn’t wait forever.

Those same formulae presented him with his answer. His father had always been focussed on results, getting the most efficient return on his investment and abhorred anything he viewed as a waste of time. Alan knew that if he could prove beyond doubt that attending school was just wasting precious learning time then he might never have to go back. He started gathering together the work he had been doing for John as evidence that he really didn’t need to sit through another hour of basic trigonometry when he was already able to apply it to complex problems. 

Jeff sat back and waited. He couldn’t predict Alan’s next move but then he realised he didn’t really know Alan at all. All the way through the young boy’s life his care had fallen to others. Others had formed him and moulded him and evidently turned Alan into someone capable of missing several weeks of school under his nose without him realising. Those influences had all been evident during their short exchange. He had witnessed Gordon’s defiance and determination, John’s intellect and Virgil’s sense of justice. Even traces of Scott were evident in the set of Alan’s jaw and the way he held his shoulders despite Scott only really being present for half of Alan’s short life. How telling that a brother absent some eight years held more influence than he did as father. If there was one thing common to all his sons though it was the ability to rise to a challenge; the afternoon had the potential to be surprising.

Jeff never made it back to the office. He couldn’t remember the last time he had had a meaningful and in depth discussion with his youngest son. His conversations with Alan were normally limited to a few perfunctory exchanges in the evening and maybe a goodbye if Alan was up before he headed to the office. Over the course of the afternoon he got more insights into Alan than any mere report card could give. For a start those bland documents could only show that Alan had met the maximum expected standard for his class, behind the lists of grades his son’s true abilities had been hidden. 

Alan might have been skipping school but he hadn’t been squandering his time. Jeff was treated to comparisons of the high school math curriculum compared to the problems John had been setting, ostensibly as a way of Alan bolstering a future college application as the middle Tracy had been unaware that the youngest had abandoned his traditional studies completely. Physics, coding and a raft of other topics handy for the modern astronaut similarly followed and it became clear that Alan was willing to put the effort in on the topics that interested him. 

Once Alan had finished lambasting the Californian education system he turned hopeful eyes on his father.

“So, can I quit?” 

If there was one thing that Jeff agreed on it was that the current curriculum being inflicted on Alan was uninspiring and certainly not challenging for the youngster. He was also conscious that his lawyers had not managed to secure the removal of their family tragedy from the text books in time for this academic year and therefore Alan would be subjected to the same ordeal as Gordon in just a few short months time if he stayed in the classroom. However, he also knew that without a high school diploma Alan would be unlikely to be able to access the higher education he needed to turn his dreams of space into a reality; he knew this from his own path to the stars.

“No.” 

“But Dad…” 

“No Alan, I will not have any son of mine walking away from education without a high school diploma. If you are at all serious about becoming an astronaut then you need to play by the rules, without a diploma you would be ineligible for any of the space programmes out there.” 

Jeff watched the disappointment flood his son’s features and wondered if Alan had really been paying attention to his words and whether he would spot the loophole in his pronouncement. He waited as Alan put together his next move, he could almost see the thoughts as they played out. Alan always had been the son to wear his emotions closest to the surface.

“I just have to get my diploma, right?” There was a hesitancy as a glimmer of hope was seized on.

“That’s right.”

“But there are other ways of getting my diploma, not just in school. Right?” 

“Potentially. So what do _you_ want to do?”

“Can I...can I do homeschool? I’m sure we’ve got everything I need to join an online programme and then just get it done.”

Jeff paused as though contemplating the request. Really, having Alan homeschooled would be better for both of them; Alan could learn at his own pace and he would find it easier to have oversight of his son’s progress and commitment. 

“You have until the end of the week to find a suitable programme otherwise I will march you straight back to the classroom myself on Monday morning. I know you don’t see the point of half the subjects you have to take but they are important, your diploma is important, even if it’s only as a paper steppingstone to better things.” Jeff found himself on the receiving end of one of Alan’s grins and realised sadly that he hadn’t seen one of those since their last flying lesson. “Now, don’t you have some research to do?”

Alan took the hint and headed out of the study with far more bounce than he’d had when entering it. Jeff had no concerns about delegating the task to his son, the similarities to John had been clear to see and he had every faith that Alan would find a suitable programme within the allotted time frame. The fact that the change to homeschooling came with the added bonus of one less loose end to tie up when the time came to relocate was not lost on him.


	19. Chapter 19

The temperature at Marineville was a solid 15 degrees lower than Los Angeles with a weak sun that bathed the parade ground in a pale and washed out light. The chill January air had a bite to it as it blew across the square but Jeff sat straight and unflinching despite those around him shuffling and wrapping themselves up tighter in their coats.

The formal part of the commissioning ceremony was nearly over. There had been speeches, the inevitable demonstration by the Marineville drummers and all that was left was for the latest cohort of the WASP officer training school to march past their assembled families before moving inside for the more informal reception.

This was the culmination of six months of hard training. Six months of commitment and dedication that not all had managed to complete despite WASP’s rigorous selection process. When he had said his goodbyes to Gordon he had done so with confidence that his son would make the grade but Jeff reflected with some shame that this hadn’t always been the case. I8 months ago he had been adamant that Gordon needed to go to college, even a year ago he’d harboured some doubts over his fourth son’s suitability for military life though he had done his best to keep those doubts hidden. 

The commands were shouted out causing the newly minted officers to snap to attention with regimented precision. The ranks of men and women in immaculate grey marched past their loved ones with a uniformity that Jeff found himself unable to find fault with. The display was in stark contrast to the march past of the Olympics; for a start the emotions of the WASPs were unintelligible, locked away behind expressions schooled to careful neutrality. Jeff hoped that some of the happiness that Gordon had displayed so freely at the Olympics was still being felt by his son now.

The contrast didn’t end at the bearing of the participants. The Olympic opening ceremony had been all bright colours and beaming smiles, spotlights and camera flashes. Today was still celebratory but with a slightly sombre undertone. The speeches of those two events had shared the common themes of honour, glory and self-sacrifice but in the background every family present at Marineville knew there was a chance their son or daughter might not come home. Military service always came with a risk. It was a risk Jeff himself had taken, a risk currently being taken by Scott, and now Gordon had stepped up to serve too. 

He had watched with pride as Gordon had sworn an oath to protect the world. It was an oath that Jeff hoped his son would continue to live by beyond the scope of his military life as the rescue outfit plans moved closer to fruition. If Gordon should consent to join them as an aquanaut, and add his soon to be acquired skills to the operation when the time came, it would extend the scope of the services they could offer to humanity, enhancing their ability to save lives. It was a conversation Jeff was yet to broach with his fourth son but he had confidence that Gordon would see the sense in his plans and join the rest of the family when he made the offer.

Almost the rest of the family.

Scott was still being difficult and Jeff couldn’t help the tremor of a frown that flitted across his features at the thought of his eldest son. Scott was meant to be his field commander and pilot of the organisation's flagship craft. He should have leapt at the opportunity to take control of the rocket plane. He should have wanted to join their cause to help save lives and prevent other families from experiencing the grief and trauma they themselves had gone through. He couldn’t understand Scott’s reluctance to resign his commission in the Air Force and swell the familial ranks. It wasn’t even as if he was asking Scott the step away from his military career right away; his plans were still a year or two off completion, although he would need Scott on site sooner than that in order to familiarise himself with the aircraft that was to be like no other on the planet. 

A tug on Jeff’s sleeve brought him back to reality. “Uh, Dad? Time to get moving, Gordon will be waiting for us at the reception.”

The stands around them were almost empty as spectators hurried to get out of the cold. There was no sign of Gordon or the other officers who had marched off to the hall ready to meet up with their families. Jeff nodded his acknowledgement to Virgil and followed after the crowds heading off to be reunited with their loved ones, Virgil and Alan trailing along behind in his wake.

It didn’t take long to find Gordon in the reception hall, or rather it didn’t take long for him to find them. He had been eagerly watching the doors as the relatives arrived in small clusters and barrelled up to his father and brothers the moment they had deposited their coats on the racks. 

“So, what do you think?” He spread his arms to better show off the uniform.

“You look great, son. I’m proud of you.” It was going to take some getting used to, seeing Gordon in military garb. The shoulder detailing, complete with the shining new rank slides of an Ensign, emphasised his swimmers physique but the cap looked a touch too large and reminded Jeff of just how young Gordon really was. Scott had worn his uniform like a second skin from the outset but then he had let the family know from an early age that the Air Force was his chosen path, conforming to expectation. He had also been that much older when he had followed the call to arms. WASP was a path that had appeared out of left field and, while he’d had plenty of time to reconcile himself to Gordon’s choice, it still felt a little surreal seeing his son in the garb of an aquanaut.

Gordon felt his arms sagging slightly as the weight of those words hit him. Pride was a feeling more usually directed towards one of his older brothers. It still felt unusual to hear those words aimed at him at himself without a medal in his hand as a focus for that feeling.

“Thanks Dad.”

“Y’know, it’s going to take some getting used to, seeing you in uniform”

“I’ve worn a uniform before, Virg.” Gordon rolled his eyes in response.

“Technically true, if you count team colours as a uniform, but I mean on dry land. You’re going to be wearing this a bit more full time than your trunks. I never had grey down as your colour before but you look good.”

“You’re not doing so bad yourself. Finally got some dress pants that fit then?” He aimed a dig at Virgil who shuffled uncomfortably at the reminder of his birthday faux pas.

“Dad insisted we both get new suits” Alan grimaced, clearly uncomfortable in the stiff outfit that was far removed from his usual jeans.

If Alan and Virgil looked uncomfortable in their suits, Jeff was a complete contrast. He had opted for his own dress uniform to mark the occasion and wore it with his habitual confidence. No longer hidden behind an anonymous winter coat the brothers could sense the stirrings in the room that always happened whenever their father was in attendance. It didn’t help that the senior officers from WASP were by now well aware of who was in their latest cohort and were beginning to circle in order to congratulate their honoured guest and extol Gordon’s virtues; they weren’t to know that such flattery rarely worked on Jeff but Gordon decided to make himself scarce before being subjected to the embarrassment.

Grabbing Alan and Virgil by the arm, Gordon led his brothers away on the pretext of finding some refreshments, leaving their father to handle the military small talk. They joined the long queue waiting to order drinks.

“So, how was it, really?” Virgil asked, the ever present concern for a brother clearly evident.

“It’s great, Virg. Honestly it is.” He took in the skepticism in his brother’s eyes. “This is the right choice for me. I know you’re not sold on the whole military thing but this is where I belong. And now I’ve got the basic training out the way it’s going to start getting really interesting. In two days I get to start my pilot training on the Merlin class subs.”

“Two days?” Alan let out a devastated wail, “So does this mean you aren’t coming back with us? I thought you got some leave after basic training? We didn’t see you at Christmas and I barely got three days with you at Thanksgiving. You’ve had even less time off over the last six months than Scott has.”

Gordon felt the guilt rise up in him. Graduating cohorts generally did get a week of leave before going on to their advanced training but he had volunteered to forgo this in order to get his hands on the Merlin. The small patrol sub appealed to him far more than some of the larger vessels in WASP’s fleet which is where he would likely have ended up if he had taken advantage of the standard vacation. He hadn’t really considered how this decision would go down with his youngest brother when he stepped forward to claim the opportunity.

“Uh, sorry Al. But the good news is that my break gets shunted to when your birthday is so I’ll be home for your 16th.” His brother brightened up considerably at this prospect. “I thought that would be better than taking it now while you still have Virg and John for company. Where is John by the way? I thought he was going to be here.”

“You aren’t the only one making the most of advanced training” Virgil explained. “John got specially selected for a stint on one of the orbital communication posts so he’s currently in quarantine.”

“Already? I didn’t think you guys actually got to leave the ground until at least Easter?”

“This is John” Virgil shrugged, as if that explained everything.

“At least there was no chance of my school getting in the way of me being here” Alan smirked.

“Yeah, how’s the whole online gig going for you?”

“It’s good, I tell ya I don’t miss the High School at all.”

“What, not even your friends? It can’t be that great being stuck on your own all the time.”

The snort Gordon got in response did not fill him with confidence. The High School might not have been great but he worried how isolated Alan now was with the move to online school. Looking back, however, he realised Alan had always been pretty isolated. His brother, like the rest of them, had never had many friends outside of the family. It was the curse of being a Tracy. Each of the brothers had one or two bad experiences etched in their memory, friends that proved false as the other party was exposed for being after money, power, influence or a combination of it all. Alan had watched his brothers get hurt, and been hurt enough times himself, to have decided fairly early on that sticking with family was safest. The problem was there was no longer any family left at home for him to stick with. 

“Don’t worry Gords, Alan isn’t alone that much. John and I get a visitor pretty often. If I wasn’t only there on a short course we’d see about renting a bigger apartment so we could have a guest room. As it is, there’ll be a spare room anyways once I finish at Tracy College. Actually,” Virgil turned to his littlest brother, “seeing as John’s heading topside and Gordon isn’t coming back, how about I take you back to Kansas for a bit after this shindig is over.”

“Sounds great. Does this mean I get John’s bed rather than the sofa this time?”

Gordon quirked an eyebrow at Alan who flushed slightly with embarrassment. The two brothers had spent enough of their lives with just each other for company that they didn’t always need words to get their point across. Alan knew exactly why his brother was getting at. The vile accusations of Virgil taking on charity cases and pity projects rose in his memory, accusations that he had known deep down were unfounded but that he had still flung out in a fit of rage and heartbreak. Virgil, however, seemed oblivious to the silent exchange.

“Sure, as long as you don’t mess up his room. You can do your school work while I have class and then maybe I can give you a few more flying lessons.”

Gordon felt infinitely reassured that things had been patched up between Alan and Virgil. If Alan was regularly spending time in Kansas then he has every confidence that the youngster was being looked after. Virgil and John would keep an eye on things and make sure he wasn’t becoming too insular or crushed under the pressure of being the only one at home with their father. He also knew that Alan would not be permitted to slack off his school work during these trips. Perhaps the move to online school, which had worried him so much when Alan first told him the news, was for the best after all. It certainly had to be better than Alan bunking off for weeks on end.

The brothers had finally reached the head of the queue and stood in front of the urns debating what to get. The smell of scorched grounds assaulted Virgil’s nose and mortally offended the coffee connoisseur.

“Sorry” Gordon shrugged, “no single origin blends here. Just count yourself lucky that the cream is fresh, the preserved stuff they serve on the subs is particularly nasty. The best you can say about the coffee we get given is that it’s hot and wet.”

“I suppose one cup won’t kill me” although Virgil’s tone suggested he doubted the truth in that statement. “I’ll grab mine and Dad’s if you two can sort yourselves out and maybe grab a couple of those cake slices.”

The brothers loaded themselves up and made their way back towards their father. 

xoxoxox

Scott had been like a bear with a sore head all day. Those in his unit had discovered very early on that the young Captain, normally so amenable to those around him, was not in a mood to be trifled with. Anything that could be found fault with was picked over and many of the airmen under his command found themselves on the receiving end of harsh words. It was out of character and had the whole unit on edge.

There had been a lot of change in the unit lately and it was taking a while for the new status quo to be found. His well deserved promotion to Captain had coincided with some retirements further up the rank structure and the whole chain of command had been reorganised. Superiors that he had respected were no longer in place and those he now reported to seemed to have a dislike for the Tracy name. He had spent so long proving himself as his own person, determined not to play off his father’s reputation, but the sneer he had received upon meeting his new commanding officer showed that the man did not believe he had reached Captain off his own merits. He had tried not to let it affect his performance, to remain professional, but today he was seething. Today he should have been at Marineville watching a brother receive his own commission but instead he was stuck on base, his request for leave denied seemingly for no other reason than that he was a Tracy. Scott found himself thinking distinctly uncharitable thoughts towards his new commanding officer.

The end of the working day, which had been filled with trivial and meaningless tasks, saw Scott hurrying back to his quarters. Once inside the sanctuary of his own space he dug out his phone, not even bothering to change out of his uniform first; some things were more important. He had been filled with worry, imagining scenarios in which their father belittled Gordon and the service he had fought so hard to join. It only took 2 rings for the call to be answered by the brother that had been in his thoughts all day.

“Hey Gords, how’d it go today?” 

“Great, Scott, just great. Absolutely freezing out on the parade square but can’t have everything.”

“So you’re a proper squid now.”

“Yup, got the hat to prove it and everything.” He grabbed his cap from where he had thrown it on the night stand and waved it in front of the camera.

“I’m surprised I caught you. The night of my commissioning ceremony the base bars pretty much ran dry.”

“Actually it’s pretty quiet here, most folks have gone off for a week and the barracks are near enough deserted. Y’know, I get a room to myself tonight for the first time since I went home at Thanksgiving. The only snores I have to deal with tonight are my own.”

Memories of shared dorms flared in Scott’s mind. He’d always appreciated having his own personal space meaning the communal living element of basic training had in some ways been more of a challenge for him than the Air Force training proper. 

“So you’re not out celebrating?”

“I might wander out later, see if this place has any night life. There hasn’t really been any opportunity to explore before now, training was pretty full on.”

“I can imagine. Well take it easy, I keep forgetting you’re still under age so stick to soda, the military police are not to be trifled with. Getting a DND is bad enough, getting one as a minor will see you out of WASP quicker than you can say submarine.”

“Yes, Dad.” Gordon responded with mock sincerity and a half-assed salute. The mention of Dad reminded Scott of just why he had been so on edge. 

“How was he today, anyway? Cos if he gave you any grief…”

“Relax Scott” Gordon could almost feel the tension vibrating though his older brother “Dad was fine.” He received a single raised eyebrow in response. “Honest, he was. You can check up with Virgil if you want. He...he said he was proud of me.”

Scott felt his heart ache at the slight crack that had appeared in Gordon’s voice. At least their father seemed to have held off with the criticism he was normally so quick to dispense in Gordon’s direction. “Well he has every reason to be proud of you. Seriously, there’s not many that make it into WASP at your age, let alone as an officer. I wish I could have been there today. I should have been there.”

“Chill Scott, it’s fine. I never made it to your commissioning ceremony either. Call it even.”

“Gords, when I got my commission you were about twelve and off swimming in Europe somewhere.”

“Thirteen and Singapore.” The instant response had Scott widening his eyes in surprise. Gordon just grinned and shrugged his shoulders. “You aren’t the only one that keeps tabs on the important stuff.”

This surprised Scott and he wondered just what else Gordon was hiding below the surface. Growing up Gordon had only ever seemed to care about his swimming, an athlete with a focus that was single minded to the point of being selfish. It was an impression that Jeff had done nothing to disabuse him of over the years. This perception had come crashing down with the exposure of Gordon’s role in Alan’s life and now it would appear that the fourth Tracy had also been paying attention to those above him in the age hierarchy. Scott felt a gnawing guilt at the past wrongs he had heaped at his brother’s door.

“I still should have been there today. Christ, Gords, you’ve worked your ass off to get to this point. It’s been killing me today, not being able to be there with you. It’s not just Dad that’s proud of you, I am too.” The guilt only intensified when he realised Gordon wasn’t quite meeting his eye, still unaccustomed to the praise that flowed more freely now.

“Yeah, well, I’m just glad I didn’t let you down. You took a risk, standing up for me against Dad. Thanks for that.”

“You couldn’t let me down. I know whatever the outcome you would have tried your best, it’s what you do. I always used to think John was the single-minded one but when you get an idea in your head you can blow him out the water for focus. So anyway, how come you aren’t heading off on leave like everyone else?”

“Got a chance to get my hands on a Merlin. I know they are being phased out but those of us signed off on the Merlin will be the first to get trained on the Stingray when it comes in and I’m gonna be putting myself firmly in that queue.”

Scott grinned at the enthusiasm pouring off his little brother, although as a commissioned WASP officer perhaps Gordon wasn’t so little any more. He remembered that feeling of excitement about getting his hands on a new craft, in his case it had been planes rather than submarines, but the thrill was still the same and from what he could tell that Stingray was going to be one hell of a craft. He listened happily as Gordon prattled on, regaling him with tales from basic training and thoughts on the opportunities about to come and when they cut the call nearly an hour later he did so with the confidence that Gordon really was happy with his choices. The family fish had taken to WASP like, well, like a fish to water and Scott just knew Gordon would make a success of it.

Scott wished he could summon up that same enthusiasm about his latest assignment. With the call to his brother over he turned to the mission briefing he had brought back to his quarters. The details in it were scant and the intelligence it was based on looked questionable but his earlier attempts to raise his concerns with the new CO had been meant with a swift reprimand for daring to question authority. 

With an audible sigh he examined the paltry file in as much depth he could, liking what he saw less and less as he read between the lines of the report. He had enough experience to know that casualties were likely to be high on all sides. The weight of command sat heavy on him; soon enough he would be expected to brief his unit then lead them out on this mission that in all honesty he could not bring himself to support.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the pause in updating, I've not been well and it knocked me out for a bit. I'm back on it though, so, on with the show.

The mood in the plane was buoyant and the air was charged with testosterone and bravado. The transport flight was filled with Air Force personnel and their destination was Fort Hood, Texas. Scott hummed absently, his fingers drumming out a little beat on his knee, feeling relaxed for the first time in weeks, normally being a passenger on a flight made him agitated as he itched to be in the pilot’s seat but today was different. 

The Army was the designated host of this year’s United States inter-service sports tournament and Fort Hood was the location where, for the next few days those selected to represent their respective services would compete in their chosen sports. 

The tournament was supposed to be a friendly coming together of the various United States forces plus the various World Security Patrol branches, and for the most part it was friendly although it would be a lie to suggest there wasn’t a certain amount of posturing and goading underneath the surface. For those taking part it was a chance to uphold the honour of their chosen service and score some one-upmanship, for those like Scott who had been selected before it was also a chance to settle old scores. 

For Scott it would be a blessed interlude between missions; after his last assignment he was in desperate need of some R&R but with taking leave off the cards this came a close second for allowing him to decompress and see the good side of military life. It would be a chance to indulge in some physical activity that he didn't have to think too hard about, recently his life had been nothing but one exhaustive mission after another. For once he was happy to be free from the burden of command for a while, his primary mission now was to run fast, fight hard and add as many points as possible to the Air Force tally. 

His thoughts turned to last year’s competition; he’d done well and never placed lower than fifth in any of his events despite one Seaman Jeffries of the World Navy tripping him in 1500m, an action that by rights should have seen the man disqualified. Unfortunately the rankings were upheld with Jeffries placing second while he had struggled to regain ground and claim fifth. The injustice still rankled and he wondered if he would have to face the nefarious Jeffries again this year.

“Sir,” Scott called across to the Major who had been designated at team captain and was in charge of the Air Force contingent, “do you have a copy of the events list I can take a look at?” 

“Sure Tracy, I brought some spares just in case” Major Ellis replied, passing a sheaf of papers across the aisle. “You’re up on the Wednesday afternoon for your track events and then Thursday afternoon for the martial arts. See any familiar names?”

“One or two” Scott replied as he checked out the list of competitors. “The US Army have put Moran in the hurdles again. I’d love to beat him this time and wipe that smug smile off his face. I’ve never met anyone so gloating.”

Having scrutinized the running order and competitors for his own events, no Jeffries, thank God, Scott began idly flicking through the rest of the programme. As he scanned the lists he spotted a familiar name, wanting confirmation of his suspicions he pulled out his phone and sent a message. 

_How far out of Fort Hood are you?_

_About 40 minutes_ came the response. This was quickly followed by _How did you find out? Everyone at home promised not to tell you. I wanted it to be a surprise. If it was Alan I’ll kill him._

_Competitor list. See you soon._

Scott let out an involuntary chuckle knowing Gordon would be mad at giving himself away and thus depriving himself of the element of surprise in any pranks he had planned. 

“What’s tickled your funny bone?” asked Ellis.

“It looks like you’re going to get to meet my kid brother.”

“Really?” Ellis asked curiously, opening up his own copy of the events list. “Is he on the other flight?”

“No, Gordon isn’t Air Force, he joined WASP.”

“You’ve got a brother in WASP? That’s a bit of a polar opposite to the Air Force. I bet that didn’t go down too well at home.” Scott had worked hard to build his own reputation but it was still well known who his father was and the Air Force pedigree he was following. “Is he another sprinter like you?”

“Dad took a little persuading” a frown furrowed his brow at the memory of Gordon’s journey into WASP; ‘a little persuading’ really didn’t do it justice but he wasn’t going to have the family’s dirty laundry aired in public, “but WASP was the natural choice really, Gordon’s a swimmer.”

Major Ellis found the relevant page and looked over the listings. The name Ensign G. Tracy leapt off the page again and again within the WASP entries.

“He’s all over the pool like a rash! Talk about putting all your eggs in one basket. Is he really that good?”

“You evidently don’t follow swimming that much. I should’ve realised WASP would jump at the chance to put him on the squad. It’s not often anyone gets to field an Olympic medallist.” He couldn’t help the smile that split his face at the thought of seeing his brother swim again for the first time since the Games. Gordon had dedicated so many years to his sport and had achieved glittering success that gave Scott a rush of pride at the memories. 

In the confined space of the plane their conversation was beginning to attract attention.

“What’s that about an Olympic medallist?”

“Dunno, ask Tracy.”

“Hey, Tracy, who’s got a medal?”

“My brother, Gordon.”

“You’re kidding!”

While Scott’s own unit might have been well versed in his sibling’s success story the competitors were pulled from across the Air Force, most of them complete strangers before boarding the flight. There was a flurry of movement as a couple of people pulled out their phones and plugged the name into a search engine. By now most of the plane was taking an interest. It didn’t take long for someone to dig out one of the news reports; Gordon’s Olympic win had taken place less than two years previously and coverage was easy to find.

“Here, listen to this.”

_Team USA continue their race to the top of the medals table with a successful day in the pool. The crowning glory came from Gordon Tracy, a rising star in the swimming world, who not only achieved gold in the 200m butterfly but set a new world record in the process. This achievement is made more remarkable in that Tracy is just 17 years old._

“That’s your brother! And now he is on the WASP team? Heck Tracy, can’t you do something like hide his trunks so the rest of us stand a chance?” one of the Air Force’s own swimmers exclaimed.

“No can do. There is no way I’m sabotaging my own brother and don’t any of you think of trying anything either. If you had ever met Gordon you would know that wouldn’t work anyway, he would probably just do the race butt naked.” 

xoxoxox

Gordon gazed listlessly out of the window of his own transport flight, the clouds forming an unbroken blanket below them, the vista bland and uninspiring. After 4 fours in the air he was feeling bored, cramped and fed up. He’d started the flight all keyed up at the thought of competing again but the long hours in the company of strangers was starting to wear thin. For one thing there was too much trash talking for his liking, he’d never gone in for the verbal sparring side of sport but it seemed his companions very much viewed the other services as the enemy at this event. It wasn’t an attitude he had encountered elsewhere in WASP and he hoped the bad mouthing would be constrained to these few days, it also wasn’t behaviour he could join in with in good conscious and so he had stayed quiet and kept himself to himself, trying to get back into competition mode after so long off the elite circuit. A vibration in his pocket startled him and he pulled out his phone.

_How far out of Fort Hood are you?_

Without thinking he typed _About 40 minutes_ and hit the send button. Only when it was too late did it register who had sent the original message and he realised his mistake. He had wanted to surprise his oldest brother, the one who was hardest to meet up with due to their differing military commitments. He’d been able to tell the wider family about his selection during his period of leave over Alan’s birthday but with Scott away on his mission he’d been able to keep the news secret from his eldest sibling. 

_How did you find out? Everyone at home promised not to tell you. I wanted it to be a surprise. If it was Alan I’ll kill him._

_Competitor list. See you soon._

Well, he supposed Scott would have found out in a few hours anyway and at least this way they would both be looking out for each other. He wasn’t quite sure of the format of the event or how easy it would be to break away and hunt down a member of one of the other services.

xoxoxox

Gordon wasn’t sure what he had been expecting from competition or from Fort Hood but it looked like finding Scott wasn’t going to be easy. Outside of their own events the personnel were able to watch the competition but there was very little free time beyond that. Even if he could get away, finding his brother was going to be like finding a needle in a haystack; the different services were billeted all over the base and by the end of the first day all he knew was that WASP was sharing a dorm block with the Coastguard Service and a mess hall with the US Navy. 

Not that he had much time to brood, the swimming was taking place on the first day of the competition proper and after a hurried breakfast Gordon found himself hustled towards the pool.

He was looking forward to the chance of some competitive swimming again. The specialist training on the Merlin had been intensive and the extended time beneath the waves had ignited a passion for marine biology but the cramped space of a submarine had hardly been conducive to physical exercise. This competition would give him the opportunity to indulge in his first passion, he just hoped he was up to the task having been entered into far more events and across a wider range of disciplines that he was used to.

Aside from his trunks lacking the Team USA branding the competition was much like any other Gordon had attended. A fair crowd had filled the viewing gallery but Gordon couldn’t tell if Scott was amongst those in dark blue. Events were called, heats were swum (and usually won) and Tracy was once again a name to be reckoned with in the pool. It felt good to be cleaving through the water again. Despite not being in peak condition for swimming he was still in fine physical form over all and the muscle memory from all those races past carried him along to victory time and again. The main difference to his usual style of competition was the lack of medal ceremony at the end and at the conclusion of his last race Gordon was able to wend his weary way back to the changing rooms where he flopped down on a bench. 

Pressing his shoulders against the cold tiles, eyes closed and head tipped back, the last of his energy was spent. It had been a long time since he’d pushed himself to those lengths in the water and normally his race card was rather more sparse, one elite athlete among many, each responsible for their own specialisms. The problem was, despite the high physical standards demanded by the military, elite athletes were in short supply and his pool times had placed him as primary candidate across more events than he was really comfortable taking on but he hadn’t felt able to say no to his superiors this early in his WASP career.

He concentrated on his breathing, listening to the hum and chatter of the other competitors around him, a cluster of WASPs gloating about their healthy position in the league table were his nearest companions. He knew he ought to be getting dry, knew he ought to be digging out the tracksuit he’d been issued for the event, but his limbs felt leaden. He wanted to be collapsed on his bunk but that involved moving and right now moving felt an impossible task.

“Gordon, eat something.”

He sensed a dimming of the light levels through his eyelids as a figure stepped between him and the harsh lights of the changing room. The voice was commanding but his eyes stayed firmly shut and his body refused to obey. 

The figure in front of him was causing quite a stir but then that was typical of Scott. He tended to exude an attitude as though he owned a place and this evidently wasn’t going down well with the WASPs around him who bristled with resentment at the young figure in Air Force blue invading their section of the changing rooms. There were muttered jibes, reminiscent of those from the flight over, but the intruder wasn’t giving the WASP delegation the rise they so clearly desired. Having failed in their goading one of his team mates decided to square up to the man they evidently viewed as the opposition.

“And who the hell are you to order us around, flyboy?” 

Scott’s eyes glittered at the challenge, a warning look that Gordon would have recognised from his own childhood had he been fully cognizant of the situation, Scott was not in any mood to be pushed. 

“That’s Captain to you” there was a pause as he took in the insignia worn by the other man, neither were in traditional uniform but the competition sports kit still had a place for rank slides; after all, the military thrived on hierarchy “Chief Petty Officer, although I accept you may not be familiar with the rank structures of the other services” 

Scott turned his attention back to his brother, ignoring the WASP who was now brisling after being firmly put in his place. He was well aware of the animosity being directed towards him but his focus was his sibling, not some jumped up sardine with a chip on his shoulder. He’d been concerned at the amount of events Gordon had pulled, and now, seeing his brother in the aftermath, he knew that concern had been justified. The figure in front of him was breathing a little too shallowly for comfort and hadn’t moved from the moment Scott had spied him from across the changing room. It had been a long time since he’d seen his brother swim himself to this level of stupor, years of competing had made Gordon pretty well attuned to his bodily needs, but evidently today he had neglected his post-race routine. 

Gordon had gotten as far as taking off his swim cap but no further, water dripped down his torso from the flattened hair that was still slick from the showers. Even accounting for his time under the waves his skin was far paler than Scott was used to seeing. He’d come down with the intention of congratulating his brother on his success in the water but now his primary concern had turned to Gordon’s basic wellbeing. 

Scott knew he had to get his blood sugars back up again. He grabbed his brother’s kit bag and rooted around in the end pocket. He allowed himself a small smile of triumph as his fingers closed around the packet of glucose tablets it appeared his brother still had the sense to carry. He extracted two tablets from the tube and, crouching down in front of his brother, placed them in Gordon’s palm before closing the lax fingers over them.

“Gords, you still with me? You need to get these into you.”

He paused while Gordon’s body processed the order, then let out a little breath of relief as the arm jerked up and Gordon began to suck on the tablets. 

He hadn’t seen his brother crash this bad since he was about twelve. An early promotion to senior squad had seen the pre-teen eager to please his new coach while trying not to show anything that could be construed as weakness by his new and much older team mates and so the kid had forgone his post-race refuel. The result then had been Gordon turning a grim shade of grey and falling off the medal podium in a dead faint. 

With the glucose tablets administered Scott turned his attention back to Gordon’s kit bag and pulled out a celery crunch bar, a firm favourite for the swimmer. He opened it and placed it in Gordon’s now empty hand. This was evidently an imposition too far for the WASP already disgruntled at being put in his place by the young captain.

“With all due respect _Sir_ ” there was a distinct sneer behind the formality “there’s no eating allowed in the changing rooms.”

If Scott’s eyes had glittered before, now they blazed with anger and contempt. Rising from his crouch in front of Gordon, he drew himself up to his full height and positively loomed over the belligerent WASP.

“With all due respect I would have thought you would rather your team mate got his blood sugars up, or does your first aid training not cover hypoglycaemia?” He took a step towards the WASP, encroaching into the man’s personal space in a clear display of dominance. “Not that you seem to be acting as a team right now. Would half of you even be here if it wasn’t for the relay events, or maybe you tried to enter him for all four legs of that at well?”

With the glucose hitting his blood stream Gordon became more aware of the increasing commotion around him. Voices that had once been jubilant now had a dangerous and angry edge and…yes...most of the anger seemed to be coming from Scott. 

Something tripped blearily in his brain; what on Earth was Scott doing here and why did he suddenly feel so cold? Amber eyes cracked open and he forced his head open off the wall. The movement was clocked by Scott who was back in front of him in an instant. 

“Hey Fish, you back with me?” All traces of anger had gone as he turned his attention back to his Gordon, the Air Force Captain replaced by the brother of old; the caregiver with the ready supply of band aids, ice packs and gentle admonishment as he presented yet another injury for inspection. 

“Yeah, I’m...I’m good.” He looked down in confusion at the crunch bar in his hand, not entirely sure how it had got there, but took a bite anyway. “Guess I should have known better than to skip refuel.”

“Yeah, you should” 

Yup, that was the Scott he knew from Kansas. Gordon felt like he was 9 years old again, being told off for being an idiot in the same ‘I told you so’ tone that had made it quite clear that of course jumping off the shed roof or using the frayed rope swing had been a bad idea. 

“Yeah, thanks for that” A snort, an eye roll, and a re-emergence of the same attitude common to his past nine year old self. 

“You’re okay now though, right? You’ll finish your bar and get dressed? Glucose tabs are back in the end pocket if you need more.”

“I’m fine, honest.” Okay, the slight whine was a little too much like a kid but he was tired and there was something about Scott’s familiar care that had him regressing 10 years. He forced protesting muscles to obey and hauled his back off the wall, rolling his shoulders to try and loosen the muscles that were rapidly seizing up. He tried to suppress a groan at the exertion, he wasn’t quite ready to try standing until after the crunch bar was finished but he also knew Scott would not be pacified until he saw some sort of response. The skeptical look he was given showed that Scott still wasn’t entirely convinced. Mustering up his remaining energy he returned the look with a grin which seemed to appease the elder Tracy.

“Hmm”, Scott didn't sound like he believed him but couldn't argue it, “well, get dry and get your kit on. You did good out there. I’ll be on the track tomorrow afternoon; I’ll see you there.” Without waiting for an answer Scott turned and exited the changing rooms.

The departure of the Air Force officer was followed with an outburst of grumbling from the WASP delegation. 

“Asshole. Who the hell does he think he is, ordering us around?”

Gordon still hadn’t found his footing among the other swimmers, or the wider WASP delegation. He might be the highest ranking of those at the pool but he was also by far the youngest and with the shortest amount of service under his belt by a country mile. Rank structures overall seemed to be treated differently during the competition and these particular team mates seemed to have little regard for authority. He was conscious that a wrong move now could make life distinctly unpleasant for him, he might never see these men again after the competition was over but he still had to get through several more days in their company. He decided to play it for what it was; Scott being an irritating older brother.

“That was Scott. I think he got the whole older brother thing hard wired in at birth.”

“You’re related to _that_?” There was a contemptuous sneer aimed at Scott’s retreating form that set Gordon’s hackles raising but he knew sniping back would be an error.

“Yup. Of course, I got blessed with the good looks while he got the height.” He flashed a grin, trying to diffuse the tensions.

“Is he always such a jerk?” a Seaman sat to his right piped up, finding his voice now the imposing Captain was no longer practically standing on his toes. 

Gordon shrugged; evidently the tensions were still there. “Only when he needs to be. I should’a thought to grab the glucose tabs myself after that many races. It’s been a while since I hit the pool competitively.”

There was a slight shuffling from the other swimmers, signs of guilt at not looking out for the young Ensign that had carried the team. Scott’s words about the rest of them only being there to make up the numbers for the relay, while not wholly accurate, weren’t far off the truth. They were all back in their dry kit while Gordon was still in his trunks, his skin still pale from the exertion even if his eyes had regained some brightness.

“Anyway,” he scruffed at his hair before drying off the rest of his body ready for dressing, “I need some real food after that and then I need to find out where the track events are being held.”

A snort. “Well we’ll be watching the shooting tomorrow. You can join us, or are you really going to do what big brother tells you?” 

There was a challenge in the tone but Gordon was feeling more alive again and less tolerant of their needling. “I’m not going because he told me to, I’m going because he’s my brother and I want to. In my family we support each other and Scott, well, he’s done a lot for me.”

Decision made and allegiances stated he swung his kit bag over his shoulder and headed out to find some food.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wasn't intending a month long gap in the middle of this but life took a nosedive. Welcome back anyone who has rejoined now I'm updating again. In the interim I've actually *shock, horror* done some timeline plotting for this seeing as my freeform approach wasn't really working any more. This does mean I now know where this is going so that should make the writing a bit easier (and hopefully mean fewer big gaps in posting).
> 
> It's taking a while to get back in the rhythm so if this chapter feels a bit off please be patient - the angst stick will be back to give those boys a beating in later chapter.

Gordon wondered if this was how his family normally felt watching him as he sat in the stands that bordered the athletics track. It wasn’t often he got to be a spectator at a sporting event, being far more familiar with the other side of the action, and he found himself feeling an excited flutter of nerves on Scott’s behalf. He also felt decidedly cold and decided that swimming was far kinder on the spectators than the chilly and exposed track. 

Despite the suggestions made to the contrary by his fellow swimmers he was far from being the only WASP at the athletics and he found himself among quite a cluster in grey watching the action on the track. Even if his brother hadn’t been competing Gordon had decided that he would head to whatever events the small group from the pool weren’t attending; he felt they dragged the service down and were the embodiment of bad sportsmanship which was almost a criminal offence in his book. 

Sitting there amongst the other aquanauts he had a definite case of divided loyalties and he found himself holding back in his open support of Scott, not wanting to be subjected to more trash talk on the other services. Part of him longed for the carefree days back in Kansas, back when he would have been one of four Tracy siblings on the bleachers shouting out their leader’s name with enthusiasm as Scott stormed through yet another high school track meet. Although thinking back, maybe Kansas wasn’t entirely carefree as he realised the only reason they all watched Scott run was because it saved Virgil having to herd the rest of them home alone; no easy task for a thirteen year old. He was sure there would have been the money for a sitter at that point and he wondered if the lack of one was down to their father believing the boys capable of managing the responsibility themselves or whether he actually considered their wellbeing at all.

His reserve didn’t last long though and a cheer escaped for the Air Force Captain who romped through the qualifying heat, earning him a few odd looks, especially seeing as WASP hadn’t made the grade in the hurdles. He shrank back, trying not to attract attention but he soon found out that his companions today were a little more forgiving of his mixed allegiances than the other swimmers had been and if anything were just a little indulgent of their youngest representative. Indeed, come the finals, with no WASP in the line up, there was more than one grey clad individual lending their support to the Air Force, admittedly without the same level of enthusiasm as Gordon.

Crossing the finishing line after a clear run over the hurdles that earned him victory Scott turned and waved to his sibling in the stands, although not before offering gracious commiserations to the defeated and scowling Moran who had been so discourteous the year before. He hadn’t had family support at a competition for years and it made a welcome change. Of course he would have given the race his all no matter what, but knowing he had a specific audience had spurred him onwards and given him an extra burst of speed. He wondered if his path through to the finals of the hurdles would have been quite so smooth if there hadn’t been a brother there to show off to.

With his own events completed on the first day of the competition Gordon was able to give his full attention to the action in front of him. Scott had always done well at track, his long limbs just seemed to be built for it. He’d never shown an interest in pursuing sports in the way Gordon had done but watching his brother clear the hurdles with no more difficulty than if he were stepping up a curb stone he wondered if Scott could have made it on the professional circuit too. That would always be one of life’s unanswered questions; Scott was made for the Air Force and Gordon couldn’t imagine anything changing that if not even the prospect of a rocket plane could tempt him away.

“Looks like I’m not the only one cheering for the enemy.”

“Huh?” Gordon had been so engrossed in watching the races he hadn’t noticed the man approaching until he had sat down next to him, breaking into his musings.

“Troy Tempest” a hand was stuck out and he shook it automatically, “Boxing.”

“Gordon Tracy, swimming.” His new companion was a few years older than him, but then that was the same for pretty much everyone he had encountered so far. It came with the territory when joining up at the minimum age. The rank slides suggested a steeper career trajectory than even Scott had managed and he wondered what Troy had done to be promoted so quickly.

“I know, after your performance in the pool yesterday I should think the whole team knows who you are. That and the shiny medal they say you have tucked away somewhere.”

Gordon shrugged “It’s just what I do, or rather, did.” It had taken a long time for him to come to terms with the loss of swimming as a career. But, as he’d immersed himself in military life he’d become reconciled with his new path; he certainly no longer felt a flood of anger and resentment whenever the Olympics and his past successes were mentioned or brought up in conversation . “So, you got family here too then?”

“No, but I started out in the World Navy sub service. Got seconded to WASP division at Marineville nearly two years ago but then stuck around and made it permanent. So, here I am, playing for the opposition. I still like to keep track of how my old buddies in blue are doing though.” 

Things started clicking into place. Gordon had heard of Troy, everyone at Marineville had, he just hadn’t placed the name to start off with. The man was almost a living legend among the aquanauts, with many a tale told about his supposed heroics under enemy fire that had earned him the transfer. There were enough rumours floating around about the guy that they could fill a sizeable book if even half of them proved to be true. Certainly the most interesting rumour, as far as Gordon was concerned, was that Troy was heavily involved in the Stingray project and was tipped to be the lead pilot in the future; if that was the case he could be a useful person to get to know. 

“So who is it you’re watching out there?” 

“Oldest brother, that’s him near lane three running for the Air Force. He’s already won the hurdles.” He waved vaguely in the direction of the track where the 1500m was just being set up. The cold March wind had picked up and the competitors were bouncing around behind the start line trying to keep warm while waiting to be called forward, the thin shorts and running vests weren’t offering much protection from the weather between races.

“I saw; he left both WASP and the Navy for dust. You say oldest, there’s more of you?”

“Yup, I’m one of five.”

“Big family. Should I watch out for a Tracy in the US Army, or maybe among the Coastguards?”

“Nah, only Scott and me joined up.” 

“Probably just as well or you could form a team in your own right to take on the lot of us.”

Gordon snorted slightly at the thought of him and his brothers working as a unit and taking on all-comers. Sure, they had a lot of varied talents between them but not enough to make up their own entry even if you could get them all on planet at the same time. Plus the idea of Virgil in a uniform was hilarious. Team Tracy vs the global military; he filed it away as a joke to tell Scott when they finally caught up with each other after the events.

The runners were lining up now, toes to the line, and Gordon turned his attention back to the track. Troy, on the other hand, seemed to be finding the young female rating sitting three rows back to be far more interesting. He kept turning round to flash her a megawatt smile and it came as no surprise to Gordon when Troy moved on. Evidently there might be some truth behind the rumours that Troy spent more time in the female quarters than in his own accommodation. 

Gordon wondered if he would be able to track Troy down again, either later in the competition or back on base. Maybe capitalise on their chance encounter and see if he could find out how to get himself considered for the Stingray crew. It was probably a pipe dream though, he’d never spotted Troy at Marineville before and even if they did meet again he wasn’t really in a position to put himself forward even if Troy did have any say in such matters. But getting his hands on the craft that most of WASP was lusting after would be a challenge for another day, the athletes on the track were poised and ready, so Gordon turned his full focus back to Scott’s second event. 

The starting gun rang out and Scott made off down the track, settling into a smooth lope that ate up the distance. He made it look easy but Gordon knew exactly how much hard work it took to stay in that condition and he felt a healthy dose of respect for his brother who, evidently, managed to keep up an effective training regime around his flying. Of course Scott’s role helped a bit, it wasn’t like he was chained to a desk job, but Gordon could tell this was a level beyond average military fitness. 

In some respects that thought worried Gordon. Each of them had their coping mechanisms when the pressures of life got too much and they needed to zone out. John could spend hours staring into the abyss of space. Virgil would lose himself into his art, his music or, in more recent years, a weights bench depending on which emotion he needed to work through. But Scott, when things got tough Scott ran, and not just his normal regular loop for exercise but hours pounding out the thoughts until his legs hurt more than his head. His performance on the track today suggested to Gordon that Scott had been putting in a lot of thinking time lately.

The pack of runners was starting to thin out and it was becoming clear who were the contenders and who were set to be the ‘also ran’s. Gordon was pleased to see Scott was firmly in the first category. He found himself craning forward in his seat, his eyes glued to the familiar form surging up the far straight, part of a head of four that were clearly calculating when to make a move and force the upshift to a sprint finish. Gordon had been subjected to enough sports psychology to know this was a critical point in the race; break too soon and you risked burn out but leave it too late and you might run out of track before you’d cleared the other competitors. He willed Scott to play it right.

The runners entered the final lap and the tension in the stands went up a notch. Barring any major disasters it was obvious now that the event would be taken by one of the lead four, the rest of the pack being too far off the pace, but the overall winner will still very much a point of contention. Coastguard, Army, World Navy and Air Force; all were in with a shot and had their eye on the prize.

Scott maintained his place in the lead cluster, waiting to see who would break for the finish first and trigger that final surge of muscle abusing sprint. It was tempting to go now, to claim the overall lead and try and hold it, but he knew the finish line was still too far off and to do so would end in disaster. He held his nerve and picked a marker; if no one else had forced the issue before then, that would be his cue to go all out.

In the end his planning was not needed. A few yards shy of his marker the competitor from the World Navy took the initiative and the pace shifted. He and the others in the lead cluster shifted in response and it was now all down to that lung bursting dash to the line. The time for strategy was past. Scott willed his legs to obey, to draw on those last reserves, to provide what he needed.

The sweat was blurring his sight by the time he crossed the line and he honestly couldn’t tell if he’d come first, second or third. The Coastguard hadn’t been able to match the pace and had dropped out of the running but the tunnel vision meant that Scott couldn’t tell where he had placed beyond knowing he had scored a top three finish. 

Gasping in lungfuls of air he tried to keep walking to prevent the worst of the encroaching muscle stiffness. Whether his subconscious played a part he couldn’t tell but he found himself wandering away from the Air Force section and turning towards the part of the stands where he knew Gordon was watching. Reaching the low barrier that circled the track he finally allowed himself to stop and lean on the top rail, the world was still spinning slightly and he focussed on the ground while he regained his equilibrium.

“Nice work. Need a glucose tablet?” He looked up to find Gordon had pushed his way to the front of the stands, a packet of sugar tabs in his outstretched arm. “I hear they help if you push too hard.”

“Thanks.” He stretched out and took a couple of the sweets, trying to ignore the grin that suggested Gordon knew just how much trouble he was having to stay upright. He really had pushed to the limit and now his legs felt like overcooked noodles.

“First and second, not bad for an amateur.”

“Huh?” He was still zoning out a little.

“First in the hurdles, second in the fifteen-hundred. You wiped the floor with us out there. Still, I suppose you had to do something to make up for me taking all the points in the pool.”

Gordon’s words finally sank in but Scott found he really didn’t care, it meant far more to him that Gordon was there to share his achievements than what those achievements actually were. He was sure that knowing he had family there supporting had pushed him beyond his usual abilities and part of him wondered if Gordon experienced the same thing; whether having all of them on the balcony had helped make that gold medal and world record happen.

“Maybe I just got lucky.”

“Lucky, my ass. I know hard work and talent when I see it. Seriously Scott, you put on quite a show.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve got to hope I get my energy back for tomorrow. You coming to the martial arts?”

“Course I am, I’m not going to pass up the chance to see my big brother get his butt kicked.”

“You’ll be sorely disappointed,” Scott smirked, the glucose hitting its mark, “back shots are against the regs, butt kicks are illegal moves.”

“Aw, man. It hardly seems worth going now.” It was only subtle but Gordon could have sworn he saw Scott’s shoulders droop. He gave a laugh to try and lighten the mood again. “I’ll be there alright, even without a butt-kicking. Now you’d better get going, your team is calling you.”

Scott turned and looked back up the track. Sure enough, he was being hollered and waved at by the Air Force contingent and he knew it was time to rejoin his team.

“Duty calls,” he grimaced. “See ya tomorrow.” 

Xoxoxox

Scott scanned the crowds in the sports hall, hoping to catch a glimpse of his brother but couldn’t spot any familiar faces among the cluster of watching WASPs. It looked like Gordon hadn’t made it to the martial arts after all and his heart dropped a little at the thought that something better might have come up, or worse that something had happened to Gordon. 

It surprised him just how much the thought of his brother’s possible rejection hurt. Military life was a road he had happily travelled alone so far, if anything he'd relished the independence and had worked hard to dissociate himself from his father’s legacy, but for once he would have quite liked his family around. But, he supposed, Gordon must have a good reason for not being there, after all he had made it to the athletics okay.

He had plenty of time to keep checking the stands, eyeing each set of latecomers who straggled in quietly so as not to disturb the fighters. For some reason the men's competition was delayed and the sports hall was filled with an air of increasing impatience. The mutterings among the spectators were increasing in volume and more than once the adjudicators from the women’s event had had to ask the crowd for quiet. The men’s event should have been in full swing too but instead their adjudicators were nowhere to be seen and nor was the participant from WASP. The stands were rife with speculation, gossip and rumours as to why the competition was missing an aquanaut.

A door off the side of the hall opened and the three errant tournament judges entered, trailed by the WASP team captain and competitor who peeled off and joined the other padded up individuals on the benches. The waiting men perked up at the thought of finally being able to get started although for one the late arrival caused some distinctly raised eyebrows.

“Gordon, what the hell are you doing here? This isn’t your event, ” Scott hissed in surprise and concern.

Gordon just grinned as he squeezed himself into a space on the benches next to his brother.

“Our guy got ill. Taken out by an allergic reaction to some unlabelled shellfish in the mess hall.”

A snort. “A WASP with a shellfish allergy?”

“Hey,” Gordon countered, “we work around the stuff, it’s not compulsory to be able to eat it. And normally those things are the other side of a sub hull.”

By now the three judges had gotten themselves settled behind their table at the side of the ring and were keen to make up the time lost in sorting out the change in entries. The first bout was called and two of the waiting competitors made their way over to the mats. 

“So, why are _you_ here?” Scott continued in a hushed whisper, not wanting to be penalised for causing a distraction. He kept half an eye on the form of those currently sparring but needed to satisfy his curiosity as to how Gordon had ended up being fielded for his service.

“Someone had to take the guy’s place, it was that or forfeit the event,” he answered with a shrug. “This way we still get at least one point even if I come last, not that I intend to.”

Scott raised an eyebrow at his brother’s optimism. “And they thought you were the best choice? Or did you volunteer in some stupid, noble gesture?” 

“Bit of both. I’m fresh and rested after a full day off and I’m the closest one out of basic training which is when most of this stuff is taught, unless you also do it as a hobby like the other guy did.”

Pretty much the same as the Air Force then, Scott reflected. In terms of formal in-service martial arts training it came in the form of some fairly basic self-defence and sparring moves taught when he had first joined up. He’d enjoyed the physical release and challenge so had kept up with the training and signed up for some advanced instruction in his spare time and could now be found in his base’s training ring at least twice a week, burning off his frustrations against others of a similar mindset. It was only very recently, after years of training, that he had gotten good enough to be picked for the competition and even then his place had only been confirmed after the top two choices had been sent on active missions and so were unavailable. He had horrible visions of his brother, a novice to the sport, being completely pummeled when he finally got called to the mat.

“Captain Tracy, United States Air Force against Staff Sergeant Winters, World Army Air Force” the call for the next bout rang out, putting a halt to their conversation.

“Wish me luck,” Scott murmured as he bounced off the bench towards the mats. 

Within the first three blows it became apparent that Scott did not need any luck as far as his fight against the unfortunate Staff Sergeant was concerned. Gordon watched closely as Scott put his superior height to good advantage. It wasn’t just in height that Scott had the upper hand; Gordon had never watched his brother fight before, it being a hobby confined to the base, but even from his limited introduction to the sport he could see that Scott was highly skilled. Even so, by the time the final buzzer sounded Scott was feeling the exertion and it was a much sticker and sweatier brother that returned to the bench.

“Maybe forfeiting would have been the better option for you, ” Scott was panting slightly, still short of breath from giving his all in the fight. He was grateful for a slight reprieve as the World Navy went up against the Coastguard Service.

Gordon rolled his eyes. “Nice to see you got faith in me.”

“It’s not that. I’m sure you’ll do your best, but most of the guys here have years of experience behind them and as you’ve seen they won’t hold back cos you’re a stand in. And being a mixed discipline competition you’re going to get all sorts of moves thrown at you.”

“I’m not expecting them to hold back and I’m not a complete novice, you know.”

“A few taster sessions in basic training does not make you a fighter.” Scott could feel his frustrations growing; from what he could see and what he had experienced in his own first match the standard was pretty high. Gordon seemed oblivious to what he was about to head into and Scott had visions of his brother being laid out cold, or at the very least having to explain to their father how he had ended up with concussion from a sport he wasn’t meant to be competing in.

“I know that but we sometimes mixed it up in cross training sessions when I was on squad. Okay, we didn’t go all out cos getting injured and being unable to swim would kinda defeat the object but it’s a start. And actually I got in quite a bit of practice when I was home over Alan’s birthday.”

“Alan doesn’t do martial arts, does he?” Scott was momentarily thrown, he knew he was sometimes a bit out of touch with his younger brothers so maybe this was a new venture for the youngest in the family. It was still unlikely to be adequate preparation for the ring for Gordon though.

“No. Well, maybe, he might now he’s not got regular school, I don’t know. Nah, Dad’s brought someone new in on his _project_ ,” his emphasis on the word left Scott in no doubt about which venture Gordon was alluding to, “some dude called Kyrano. Anyway, he’s got a daughter about my age, Tanusha. Being the nice guy I am, I offered to help alleviate her boredom while the Dads talked shop. Turns out her favourite hobby is kicking butt.” There was a definite wince from Gordon at the memories; playing the attentive host had not gone how he had hoped. “Once she was done knocking me to the floor she taught me a few tricks.”

Scott smirked slightly at the thought of Gordon’s advances being well and truly slapped down. “Serves you right, chasing anything that moves.” Okay, that was perhaps a little unfair of him but in a way it felt good to hear that his brother had regained some spark after his still so recent depression.

“Probably less painful too. Tanusha might have taught me some stuff but apparently she learnt it all from her Dad and anyone fooling with his only daughter is going to be in the spotlight. From what she was saying a beating from Kyrano himself could have laid me out for a week.”

Scott hadn’t had an update from his father since returning from his mission so Kyrano was a new development to file away. He knew all about the engineer scientist his father had employed to design his ships and he wondered what role this new and rather dangerous sounding employee would take in the rescue organisation his father seemed so determined to go ahead with. However, his main concern now was making sure Gordon didn’t end up as a smear on the mats.

“Look, if you’re determined to go through with this there are some basics you need to know,” he might not have long but the least he could do was give some advice. “Head shots score more so make sure you keep your guard up. Also, kicks earn more than hand strikes and those things can hurt. It’s mixed discipline so most things are allowed except sweeping someone’s legs out or kicks to the back; if you try that you’re gonna get sanctioned.”

Gordon just rolled his eyes. “They went through all this in the briefing just now. Don’t worry, Scotty,” Scott frowned slightly at the deliberate use of his nickname, “I’m going into this with my eyes open.”

Scott wasn’t too sure . He still thought there was a good chance that whoever fought Gordon first would be sending his little brother on a rapid trip to the infirmary. He wondered who would be awarded the dubious honour of giving Gordon his first, and probably only, fight. He didn’t have long to speculate though, the officials had made the draw for the next bout.

“Ensign Tracy, World Aquanaut Security Patrol against Captain Tracy, United States Air Force. ”

As the names Cpt.Tracy and Ens.Tracy flashed up on the electronic scoreboard for the wider audience to see there was a rise in whisperings among the crowd. Both the Air Force and WASP contingents knew by now that one of their teammates had a brother competing for a rival service and the connection was soon picked up by the spectators from the other services too. It certainly added an extra dimension to the competition.

Scott felt his stomach drop through the floor. Despite knowing that Gordon would be fighting in the martial arts he’d somehow managed to forget that this meant they would actually be fighting each other at some point. The announcement brought that reality back home with a vengeance. He really hoped the call home would not be because he had been the one dishing out the concussion. 

Scott stood opposite Gordon on the mats, dreading the fight to come. The last thing he wanted was to be responsible for hurting his little brother. In his mind it was pure stupidity to put such an untrained entity into a competition fight and WASP should have forfeited the event; it was like sending a lamb to the slaughter. What made it even more disconcerting was the easy grin Gordon was wearing, as though he was completely unprepared for the ordeal to come, and all for the sake of one point because he couldn’t conceive of any way Gordon could earn more unless one of the other competitors got disqualified.

A whistle blew and the brothers bowed to each other before dropping back into their fighting stances ready for the round to begin. Scott was surprised to see that his brother had pretty good form but any further reflections were curtailed by the sound of the second whistle. Showtime.

The brothers circled round each other. Scott was reluctant to aim the first blow but by maintaining a strong defence Gordon was unable to find an opening. He aimed a few kicks in Scott’s direction but these were easily deflected and thirty seconds into the round neither brother had scored a single point.

“Stop holding back,” Gordon hissed, stepping into Scott’s personal space in a way that left him wide open for attack and Scott would have taken full advantage of it had his opponent been anyone else. But then, if it had been any other opponent, he wouldn’t have been holding back in the first place. A blink and Gordon was back in a defensive stance, the grin replaced by a look of annoyance at Scott’s reticence to attack.

Scott knew he would have to launch an attack soon, failure to fight was one of the ways to give points away to the opposition and he ran the risk of handing the round over on a plate. He paused, chose his moment, and struck out with a turning kick that should have tapped Gordon’s left ear.

Gordon wasn’t there.

By the time Scott’s foot had reached the end of its arc his younger brother had moved, combining a quick dodge with a knife hand strike that caught Scott on the side of his ribcage. As the brothers shifted back to their defensive stances at least one of them was surprised to see the first point on the scoreboard with WASP taking the opening lead.

Scott glanced up, as if needing to see the proof spelled out for him in LEDs, that Gordon really had landed the blow. The lapse in concentration nearly cost him more points and it was only by catching the movement in his peripheral vision that he narrowly avoided taking another hit. Time to wake up and start taking the fight seriously. 

He tried to view the man in front of him for what he was, a new opponent with an unknown repertoire, rather than as his younger brother. It didn’t help that Gordon looked so, well, Gordon like. The grin had returned but there was a grim determination in Gordon’s eyes that Scott found slightly unsettling. It was time to stop underestimating his brother.

Gordon was on the stockier end of the family scale, he potentially had one or two growth spurts left to go but it was already abundantly clear he would never reach the lofty heights of Scott, John or even Virgil for that matter. Scott knew he ought to be capitalising on his height advantage, using his long limbs to keep the aquanaut at bay and himself out of striking range of the shorter man. What he hadn’t counted on was Gordon’s ability to make explosive bursts of movement, diving in to any opening, jumping in and out of Scott’s field of movement every time he shifted a limb and opened a gap in his defences. There was a speed of reaction honed from years of leaping off a diving block in automatic reflex to a starting gun and this spring translated well to floor work. There was also an erratic unpredictability to Gordon, and Scott found himself completely unable to anticipate what his brother was going to do next.

The fight livened up, move and counter-move, strike and block; the brothers circled the mats, each trying to claim their points. As expected, Scott was by far the more proficient fighter and the balance of points soon swung in his favour. Gordon was not without his surprises though, and more than once Scott felt a kick or punch land that he had not been able to anticipate; evidently this Tanusha girl had managed to impart a few tricks, Gordon was certainly using some moves that Scott hadn’t encountered before.

As the timer ticked down to zero the shrill blast of the final whistle cut across the hall, commanding the brothers to stop their fight. It came as no surprise to either that the elder Tracy was the clear victor but it hadn’t been the walkover that Scott had expected. 

Gordon’s style was rough around the edges and lacked the finesse of a better trained opponent but he had a good enough grasp of the basics and an uncanny ability for spotting any weakness that could be exploited, which made him an interesting opponent. The brothers bowed again, shook hands as etiquette demanded, and returned to the benches to await their next fights.

The event progressed with the brothers taking their turns against each of the other competitors. The others certainly showed no mercy towards the novice in their midst and more than once Gordon took a hit that he was sure was going to leave him bruised despite wearing the regulation pads borrowed from the WASP currently being treated in the medical centre.

Scott watched on protectively. Yes, Gordon might now be military, but his career was still in the early stages and he was taking part in a competition that could be brutal, in a sport for which he had limited training. Even with years of formal training Scott was feeling the strain as each opponent had a different style and he decided mixed disciple competitions were far harder than the straight taekwondo he trained in on base. Karate, aikido, muay thai and many more that he didn’t recognise, the styles represented were as many and varied as the services attending. 

Gordon was also finding the event tough and after a few rounds was almost regretting his decision to step forward. Almost. Another part of him was relishing the challenge and having to think on his feet, making snap decisions, acting on impulse. It was a far cry from the regimented discipline of swimming with its fixed rhythm. Swimming didn’t require initiative in quite the same way.

Scott, seeing the way Gordon handled himself, soon found his feelings of concern morphing to those of pride. His brother was definitely no one trick pony, despite this being vastly different to his preferred swimming, Gordon was not a fish out of water. He may not have been up to the standard of the rest of the competitors but neither was he a punching bag and he had managed to land a few blows that kept the much more highly skilled fighters on their toes.

Even with a healthy dose of natural talent keeping Gordon afloat the results were still inevitable, after the final bout had been fought WASP was at the bottom on the men’s score table. But Gordon certainly hadn’t disgraced his service, he had stepped forward when no one else had and as their female competitor had managed a very respectable third place, the honour of WASP had been upheld in the ring.

The fighters trudged back towards the changing rooms to grab a much needed shower and check for blossoming bruises. Scott, stepping up from behind Gordon, slung an arm around his brother’s shoulder in friendly congratulation.

“Gerr’off Scott, your pits stink after that.” Gordon ducked out of the embrace and gave his brother a half-hearted shove despite his arms starting to feel like lead.

“You wound me,” Scott clutched at his heart in mock indignation but didn’t attempt to pull his brother close again, much to Gordon’s relief. “So, you thinking of carrying on with it? You’ve got potential.” For a beginner Scott thought Gordon had put on a respectable showing and, with a little training, he could be a formidable opponent. There might even be a chance they could train together if they managed to get their leave to align and Scott found himself imagining them having impromptu sparring bouts.

“The material arts? Probably not, it was pretty fun but I’m not really gonna have a chance to train with my next assignment.”

Scott raised his eyebrows. “You've got a posting coming up?”

A nod. “Yeah. Um, can we meet up later? I’d kinda like to talk some things over with you.”

Scott’s curiosity was piqued. At the mention of the posting a troubled look and slight frown had come over Gordon’s face and it was evident something was bothering his sibling.

“Sure. Competition’s over once the last events finish this afternoon. Normally everyone heads to one of the bars on base, I’ll find you there tonight and we can have a proper catch up.”

That sounded like a solid plan to Gordon. There were things he would appreciate some guidance on, things that needed more than just a quick chat in a changing room, and he trusted Scott to give him a considered and unbiased answer. By the time the competitors were changed and back in their day kit the brothers had made arrangements to meet and gone their separate ways with a promise to find each other at the after-party.


	22. Chapter 22

The bar was dark and packed to bursting point. Gordon nursed a juice while keeping half an eye on the door for Scott. It was probably just as well that the army had been allocated a different bar he reflected, he wasn’t sure many more bodies could safely squeeze into the already crowded space. The US Army, buoyed by being on home turf, had scraped a narrow victory in the competition and the walk from the barracks had been accompanied by the sounds of celebration from across the base as the resident personnel decided to toast the victors. In light of this the event organisers had decided it was perhaps wise to keep the visitors separate from their hosts, a winning team could get a little over enthusiastic in their celebrations, especially with an entire base full of compatriots on hand to buy them drinks. It meant that the designated non-Army bar was crowded but at least Gordon knew he and Scott would definitely end up at the same place. 

Ordinarily he would be in the thick of the action after an event. Before, the short time between the end of a competition and heading home had been one of the few points in his life when he was free of responsibilities and obligations and he usually took full advantage of the freedom. His misspent youth could be carefully plotted out on a calendar in regimented bursts around his swimming commitments before the daily realities of training, school and looking after Alan kicked back in. 

Tonight he wasn’t in the mood for indulging in a few hours of hedonism, especially after Scott’s prior warnings about underage drinking and military police not making for a happy combination; it wasn’t worth risking his fledgling career for. The more physical pleasures that often followed a competition were also off the cards in a shared dormitory of strangers. Most of those present though didn’t fall under the state’s age restriction and the alcohol was flowing freely. A glass thudded down on the table in front of him, slopping some of the contents onto the already sticky table.

“Get that down you, Tracy. You earned it.” The sound drew his eyes away from the door and back to the table of WASPs around him. He hoped Scott would turn up soon, after the swimming was over he’d managed to avoid the cretins he’d had the misfortune of being thrown into the pool with but with everyone confined to one place there was no escape. Not all of WASP fell into the obnoxious category but there were a few individuals that he was quite glad he’d be unlikely to cross paths with ever again.

“I’m good, thanks.” He nodded towards his own glass, still half full of apple juice.

“Ah, c’mon, you’re off duty.” An uncoordinated hand slapped him on the shoulder, jolting him forwards with the force of it. WASP might not have won the competition but they hadn’t done badly and a sizable chunk of the points had come from Gordon’s success in the pool. Points that were being celebrated with a few too many beers and a fair quantity of hard liquor. “Lighten up a little.” 

The glass was shoved closer, nearly falling off the edge of the table into his lap. He wasn’t too sure what was in it but it sure as hell wasn’t apple juice; from some of the sniggerings and mutterings and looking at who had supplied the drink he strongly suspected the glass contained a lethal mix for the sole purpose of getting him blind drunk.

“He said he’s fine.” A hand reached down and covered the glass, dragging it away towards the middle of the table with a scraping sound.

Gordon looked up, then up further. Scott towered over the table, exuding an air of command even during his down time. Blue eyes were set into what Gordon clearly recognised as protective mode, his mouth thin and his jaw clenched, daring those at the table to challenge him. Grateful though he was to have his brother finally show up he really didn’t need Scott to antagonise the rest of his team over one drink that he’d had no intention of touching anyway.

“Sorry folks, family reunion time. I’m sure one of you can put that drink to good use,” he flashed a placating grin as he quickly stood up and stepped away from the table, drawing Scott away before tempers could flare. Those that hadn’t been at the pool were looking a little bemused at Scott’s sudden arrival and departure which must have come across as fairly rude but Gordon could already feel the tension from the swimmers who had butted heads with his brother before and he was keen to avoid an argument. “Do you have to rub everyone up the wrong way?” he asked when they were finally clear of the WASP delegation.

“They’re idiots, and drunk ones at that.” Scott was in no mood to suffer fools, he’d had enough of that already for one day.

“I know, but you’re late and I didn’t really have anywhere else to wait. And they aren’t all idiots, there’s just a few bad apples on the team.”

“If you say so. What the hell was in that drink anyway?”

“No idea, but I had no intention of finding out. I could have handled that by myself you know.”

“Sorry, I should have trusted you.” Scott at least had the decency to look a little shame faced, sometimes it was hard to remember that Gordon was no longer a kid and was capable of making his own decisions, usually the right ones. “I just know what it can be like, the military can be a bit heavy handed with the drink when it’s in the mood. Speaking of which, do you mind if I grab a beer?” 

“Go for it,” Gordon shrugged, just because he was sticking to juice didn’t mean his brother had to.

Scott gave a grateful nod and worked his way towards the bar, his movements still stiff and tense. He ordered a beer and knocked the whole lot back in record time before leaving the empty bottle on the counter top.

“Jeez Scott, is everything okay?” The ferociousness with which Scott attacked the drink had surprised Gordon and he sensed that Scott’s mood wasn’t just down to his encounter with the WASP team. The man before him certainly wasn’t the carefree brother he’d enjoyed sparring against just a few hours earlier.

“I’m fine. Can we get out of here?” the tone suggested Scott was anything but fine.

“Sure,” he nodded, following on in Scott’s wake as they made their way to the exit. Once they reached the cool night air Gordon tried again, it was clear from Scott’s bearing that something was bothering him. “Now are you going to tell me why you’re storming round like a thunder cloud?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Bullshit, Scott. You show up late looking like you’re spoiling for a fight then knock back a drink at mach 3. You either tell me what’s going on or I’ll set Virgil on you.” 

Scott grimaced but he could tell from Gordon’s expression that he was deadly serious. At least Gordon was likely to have some understanding and sympathy whereas with Virgil he risked being subjected to an anti-military guilt trip and he definitely wasn’t in the mood for that. Normally his immediate younger sibling would be his sounding board but on this their opposing views were likely to be a stumbling block, no matter how well intentioned his brother's counsel might be.

“Not here,” the area immediately outside the bar was busy with people taking a break from the heat and crowds inside and there were a few too many Air Force personnel around for his liking, “let’s take a walk.”

They headed off into the darkness, their subconscious steps leading them by mutual consent towards the nearby athletics track. The bleachers were empty in stark contrast to the crowds of the previous day and the whole area was shadowy with just a few security lights illuminating the gates. They settled onto the hard planks and took a few moments to just sit quietly in the darkness.

It was Gordon who cracked first, the slumped shoulders and stony expression worn by his brother were still a cause for concern. Scott looked tired and not just in the purely physical sense.

“So spill, how come you were so late tonight?”

“Just had to deal with some stuff from my CO.”

“Still not gelling with the new guy?” He had been treated to a few choice words in the past about Scott’s thoughts on his Commander and they were far from complimentary.

“Not that new anymore. But no, he still doesn’t trust me to lead my unit and questions my every decision. I guess the feeling’s mutual though.”

“How so?”

“His orders are...urgh.” He dropped his head into his hands for a moment, his fingers carding through his hair in agitation, before straightening and gazing unseeingly over the empty track. “My last mission, it was a complete disaster. Pretty much everything I predicted would happen, did, but when I tried to talk to him about it before we flew out I just got shot down,” there was a heavy pause, “just like two of my unit,” Scott muttered darkly.

“Ouch,” Gordon winced. “I didn’t hear about that; must have been reported while I was on the subs, it can be hard to keep up with the news down there.”

“It wasn’t reported. The whole mission was top secret, even the guys’ families think they were on some training exercise that went wrong. Look, I really shouldn’t be telling you any of this.” He turned towards Gordon and even in the darkness the silent plea could be seen.

“Understood,” Gordon tried to reassure him. He knew there would probably be times in the future when he needed to speak to someone outside of the service despite it being against orders and if you couldn’t trust family, who could you trust? “Whatever you say goes no further.” This moment was between him and Scott, one serving brother to another, and he could feel his shift in status from dependent child to equal.

“Thanks.” The quiet nod that accompanied it conveyed a depth of feeling that showed just how much Scott was dealing with. “You always hear rumours about the secret stuff and you think it’s going to be all exciting, but the reality is...it’s bad. This isn’t what I joined up for. The guys from my unit weren’t the only casualties either, there were civilians in the area, innocent people who had no choice in all this. Collateral damage is how my CO referred to them, callous bastard.”

It was the first time Scott had spoken to anyone outside of his immediate unit about the mission and the relief at being able to criticise the orders without reprimand was palpable. He’d been on the other side of this conversation a couple of times as some of the men and women who served under him had felt the need to talk but he’d always been the listening ear and had always been required to respond on party lines, that the sacrifices were worth it for the bigger picture, despite his desire to scream that he’d thought it was a fool's errand and that he hadn’t wanted to lead them into danger. But none of them had been given a choice, it was a case of fly or be court martialed. Now, with the lives of those who trusted him on his conscience, he wondered if court martial would have been the better option. 

Gordon sat in silence, realising that what his brother really needed was someone to just listen as he worked through his own thoughts. His own meagre service history, still in the early stages, had him completely devoid of experience in the field of combat and the moral minefield it could evidently come with. In the deep shadows of the stands Gordon could almost feel the ghosts that haunted his brother's memories, turning the figure that was normally a poster boy for patriotism into a hunched and brooding shell that looked far older than his twenty-six years.

As if sensing the scrutiny his brother was subjecting him to Scott mentally shook himself and straightened. The doubts and worries were locked away again as he visibly morphed back into older brother mode; strong, dependable and emitting a feeling of self-assurance. He might have let his guard slip for a moment but he had worn the mantle as head of the pack for too many years to be comfortable showing such vulnerability for long. He was already doubting the wisdom of telling anyone about his problems but the call from his CO earlier in the evening had left him angry which always clouded his judgement. Venting had helped a bit and he was grateful that Gordon had been there, listening without judgement in a way that their father or Virgil never could.

“So what’s this posting of yours?” He asked, flipping the focus back to Gordon. “You said in the ring you wouldn’t have any time for training.” 

It was a clear sign that any conversation about the Air Force and Scott’s thoughts towards it was over. The walls were back up and Gordon knew that, despite that momentary show of vulnerability, any further probing wouldn’t be welcomed. It was troubling just how much Scott was affected, biggest brother had always been so confident, but tonight Gordon had seen a side he’d never been privy to before and he wondered how many other times Scott had worn the mask to protect the rest of them from his doubts. 

Much as he wanted to help Scott he really didn’t know how and he still had his own problems to unpick. Now it was his turn to be in the spotlight.

“No, I think my sporting activities are going to be on hold for a while. Um, I’m being given command of a craft.”

“You’re getting a Merlin? You really must have impressed them during the training to get your own sub so quickly.” Scott couldn’t help but feel a flush of pride at Gordon getting that level of recognition so early on in his career. Really Gordon should have been bouncing at the news so to see him so flat and brooding was a worry and he wondered what the problem was. “You had to know it was coming at some point, commanding a unit is kinda the deal with being an officer.”

“S’not a Merlin, it’s a bathyscape. I go in a little under a month.”

“A bathyscape? I didn’t even know WASP had those.”

“Yeah, it’s a research posting; unlike the Air Force, WASP isn’t all about combat missions y’know. I’ll be out there for a whole year, looking at underwater farming methods.”

Scott whistled, as first assignments went it was a big one but perhaps not in the direction Gordon had been hoping to take; his brother has made no secret of wanting to get a place on the sleek and fast Stingray, the whole point of volunteering for the Merlins was as a stepping stone to this, and a research bathyscape was the polar opposite. “That’s a long time, is that what the problem is? At least you know your way around a farm, or was a sea tractor not quite what you had in mind as your first mission command? You don’t sound too excited about it all.”

“It’s not a sea tractor,” Gordon snorted at Scott’s abysmal attempt to lighten the mood. “I know underwater farming might not be everyone’s bag but I’ve been really enjoying the oceanography and marine biology parts of my training. I think that’s partly what got me picked for it. A whole year is a bit longer than I was expecting but this is a big deal. This project could really make a difference and I’ll be leading a sizabe team so it’s an honour to be chosen.”

“I sense a ‘but’ coming on.” Despite everything he was saying there was a distinct lack of excitement from the aquanaut. 

“It’s the whole research element. The project is joint with CalTech and I’ll be sending our findings on to their marine biology team.”

“What difference does that make?”

Gordon tried to meet Scott's eyes but couldn't, nervous about whatever reaction he might get to the news he hadn't yet been brave enough to voice. Compared to the issues Scott was facing this seemed minor in comparison but it was still giving him sleepless nights. His stomach churned, the butterflies inside him evidently practicing backflips or something. He hadn't told anyone about this, not even Virgil, but he trusted Scott to give an objective opinion and be honest with him.

“Well, most officers have been to university. It turns out that they like those of us who haven’t to get qualified on the job. Part of the deal with CalTech is that the research papers can count as course credit. If I study for a few extra units while I’m down there then by the end of the year I could earn a higher ed diploma.”

“That’s great news.”

“Is it? My CO is talking like it’s a done deal but I’m really not sure.”

“What’s not to be sure about?” 

“This is me, Scott. The family screw up. Part of the reason I’m even in WASP is cos you finally got Dad to see sense that I wasn’t cut out for College.”

“You are not a screw up!” Scott exclaimed, cross that even now their father’s past needling about Gordon’s academic abilities was still able to drag his brother down; sure he wasn’t in the same league as John but then very few people were and it didn’t mean he wasn’t bright in his own right. “Now you listen up. I didn’t go against Dad cos I didn’t think you could hack college, I did it because I could see you’d make a damn good aquanaut. You’re made for the submarine service but that doesn’t mean you’re incapable of anything else.”

“But studying at undergrad level, it’s going to be a lot of work.” 

“Gordon, you work harder than pretty much anyone else I know. You certainly worked harder at school than the rest of us,” he took in the raised eyebrows that framed a look of pure skepticism. “I mean it. You might not have got top grades but your marks were still good even though some of the subjects didn’t come naturally and you did all that around your swimming and Alan.” 

Gordon scuffed at the planks, his fingers absentmindedly attacking a stray splinter in the wood as the empty seat on his far side suddenly became very interesting. Scott seemed to believe in him but he just couldn’t summon up that same faith in himself. “But what if I fail? I don’t think I can do it.”

There, he’d said it. Ever since he’d been called in by his commanding officer and given the details of the posting the study element had been dragging him down like a millstone. He’d realised pretty early on, even during selection, that he was the odd one out, underqualified compared to most officers. What he hadn’t realised was that WASP would not only support him to gain a degree but it was assumed that he would be taking on this learning as a matter of course. From that moment on the gnawing dread had been eating away at him. He enjoyed the study topics and he’d proved himself worthy of the command element of the posting but instead of looking forward to the opportunity all he could think about was the impending failure because he couldn’t foresee any other outcome.

“Look at me, Gords. You aren’t going to fail. It’s a diploma of higher ed, right?” Gordon gave a slight nod of confirmation. “That means it’s first year stuff and I know that when it comes to the ocean you’ve got that more than covered. What you’re going to be missing is the general skills and for those you can always ask the rest of us for help. John has written more scientific papers than is healthy, Virgil can generally spot any flaws in logic even if it’s not his subject and I’ve done so much Harvard referencing I could probably do it in my sleep.”

“Harvard? But you went to Yale.” 

“Harvard referencing is how you say what books and papers you used to write your assignments.”

“See, this is what I’m talking about,” Gordon groaned, kicking out at the bench in front, “I don’t know any of this stuff.”

“It’s alright,” Scott slung an arm round Gordon’s shoulder, wishing there was some magic pill he could give his brother to dispel the self doubt. Gone was the confident aquanaut, even the thought of returning to study had Gordon regressing to the kid who worried each term if his report card would meet the lofty ideals of the father who demanded so much. “No one knows this stuff at the beginning and there is no shame in that. Normally you would get a load of seminars at the start of your course but that’s going to be a bit tricky if you’re underwater. I don’t know how it will work with you doing it through WASP but CalTech should give you some support and if they don’t then you’ve got three older brothers who have all been there. One of us will always be available to talk you through it, not that I think you’ll need any help.”

“You really think I can do this?” He pulled out of the hug and stared at his brother as though trying to gauge his honesty. The way Scott was talking he made it sound so simple. 

“I’m sure you can. But if you get stuck with anything don’t brood on it, just ask.”

“Yeah, I can really see that one going down well.” Gordon rolled his eyes, remembering the last time he’d attempted to ask for homework help. “John already thinks I’m an idiot.”

“No one thinks you’re an idiot, Gords. I know John can be a bit...acerbic at times but he’s mellowed since he left Harvard.” Scott made a mental note to have a quiet word with the would-be astronaut; for most things the word ‘can’t’ was just a challenge to Gordon, something to be proved wrong, but when it came to anything academic Gordon was evidently still plagued by crushing self-doubt. The last thing he needed was for a disparaging comment from the family genius to send Gordon spiralling. It was true John had been a lot more approachable since starting at Tracy College, living with Virgil and having Alan as a frequent visitor seemed to be grounding him more in family life, but he could still be a bit abrupt if you caught him at the wrong moment.

“If I do this can you promise me one thing?”

“What’s that?”

“Please don’t tell Dad, I really don’t need him breathing down my neck about grades.”

“Promise. Dad won’t hear a word about it until you’ve got that certificate in your hand.”

The sigh of relief was audible in the still night air as Gordon released some of the tension that had been knotting his insides. Sat there with Scott, being given assurances that his brothers would be on hand if he needed them, he felt a lot more confident about the whole thing.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I know it's been a month since the last update but life has been....tough. This fic is most definitely not on hiatus and I will be actively writing (when my head allows) and putting chapters out when I can. Thanks for sticking with me.

_Thwack_

_Thwack_

_Thwack_

Virgil’s eyes tracked the arc of the baseball as it made another short journey up towards the ceiling before landing in Alan’s waiting hands.

_Thwack_

He gritted his teeth, trying to ignore the teen sprawled on his back on the couch. He knew Alan was only doing it to annoy him having been told he couldn’t start another game with the arrival of John imminent but it was taking all his willpower not to snap, he didn’t have the energy for the argument Alan was obviously spoiling for. As soon as the missing sibling turned up they would be settling down for dinner and Virgil had decided he would rather deal with a bored Alan than try and drag him away from whatever virtual world he was immersed in when the time came to eat. Except the expected ten minutes had already ticked closer to an hour and John still hadn’t appeared. 

_Thwack_

It didn’t make the actions of his brother any less annoying in the meantime. It certainly didn’t help that he had a test to study for. Where had Alan even managed to get a baseball from in the first place?

_Thwack_

The door to the small apartment he shared with John clicked open and Virgil audibly sighed with relief as his immediate younger brother finally showed up. He closed up his books, giving the page a baleful glance as he did so; he hadn’t taken in a word in the last half hour and knew time was running out.

“Fiiiiiinally.” Alan caught the ball with one last _thwack_ and sat up, popping the ball on the seat next to him. “Virg said you would be back by six.”

“Sorry,” John looked sheepishly at the clock that was now ticking closer to 7pm, “I got held up on campus but I treated us to take out take out to make up for it.”

Alan’s eyes lit up at the prospect of food. Delicious smells were wafting from the paper bag John carried and his stomach rumbled. Take out was a rare treat, hell, even eating in company was a rare treat; their father was increasingly slipping back into bad habits and didn’t often make it back in time for dinner. Since his shift to online school he could sometimes go three or four days without seeing another human being unless he ventured out of the apartment, it was one of the reasons he could be found so frequently on John and Virgil’s couch.

“What have we got, Chinese?” Alan asked.

“No, Thai. There is a nice little place two blocks away that does an amazing spicy shrimp soup and their pad thai is pretty decent too.”

“You went to the Mango Tree?” Virgil’s mood lifted at the prospect.

“Yes, I went to Mango Tree. Don’t expect me to do this every time, I just thought you could do with a pick me up seeing as exams are on the horizon and I don’t think we’ve introduced Alan to it yet. Plus, I’m late.” he said, placing the bag on the table on his way past to the kitchen. 

The Thai place, a little gem they had discovered within their first month at Tracy College, had become a firm favourite but one reserved for special occasions, or apologies in the case of tonight. Virgil was quick to clear away his files to make space on the table that was currently doubling up as a desk and by the time John returned with an assortment of spoons, forks and chopsticks, the containers were already laid out.

Alan wandered over to claim his place between his two siblings, feeling guilty at the reminder that Virgil was meant to be studying for exams. He knew his actions had been irritating, he’d even been deliberately varying the gaps between his throws so Virgil couldn’t get used to the rhythm, but he was bored and it hurt that yet another person couldn’t be bothered to show up when they were meant to.

"So how are you getting on with freight transport law?" John asked between slurps of his soup.

"Slowly," Virgil growled, casting a frown towards Alan who at least had the good grace to look shamefaced.

The interaction didn’t pass unnoticed by John who directed his own frown at Alan. While the other brothers had, in turn, taken on the holistic care of Alan, John was more focussed on his education, especially knowing Alan’s determination to head into space one day. Finding out that Alan had transferred to online school had been a surprise but to find out it had followed a bout of truancy had left him furious. He wasn’t prepared to let Alan screw up his education and he certainly wasn’t going to let him drag Virgil down either, he knew this exam had been weighing heavily on his brother’s mind and the last thing he needed was unnecessary distractions.

“Didn’t you have any work to be getting on with?” John asked the recalcitrant teen. 

Alan tried to stare John down but found that his most introverted sibling had learnt to hold his own under scrutiny, at least where family were concerned. He dropped his gaze on the pretext of picking a piece of chicken out of his pad thai and tried to sound nonchalant. “I’m ahead of myself so I took the day off.”

“That’s no reason to disturb others, Virgil and I both have some key exams coming up and you need to respect that if you want to keep coming here. And anyway, there’s no such thing as being ahead of yourself on your study programme, I know you picked one that lets you submit work at any time and complete your diploma at whatever pace you want.” 

“Was hoping you’d be here,” the voice was small and dejected, all the fight gone before it could properly build. He didn’t really want to argue with his brothers but sometimes it felt like the only way to be noticed was by challenging authority. He was never going to win a gold medal, unlikely to win a scholarship and certainly wasn’t going to get military honours. With those more admirable routes to gaining attention taken away from him that just left being a problem; he had to remember that his brothers were not like his father and he could actually talk to them without needing to be summoned first.

John watched Alan visibly wilt under his gaze, crushed by the force of his disapproval and it took a moment for the words to sink in. The others had occasionally joked about Alan being his shadow or asked what it was like to be up on a pedestal but he usually shrugged it off. Now, hearing that simple hope voiced with such longing John was reminded that it wasn’t entirely a joke, that of all of them Alan strived for his attention and approval the most and with that came great responsibility. 

“I know and I’m really sorry. The guy leading the seminar today was an expert in broad spectrum communication arrays and I wanted to run some ideas by him. I’ve been working on some theories on multi-frequency monitoring and didn’t know when I would get another chance to talk to him.” He paused, realising he was babbling in his attempt to make Alan see that this had been important, that he hadn’t wanted to be late and really did care. But Alan didn’t need his excuses, what he needed was his brothers. He took a sip of water and refocused his attentions. “Look, I don’t have any classes until 12 tomorrow so we can do something together in the morning. In the afternoon you can either stay here and do your own work or come with me and sit in on my lectures.”

“It’s not freight law is it? Cos that stuff sounds dull as anything.” He knew John was trying to make up for being late home and ordinarily he would have jumped at the chance to gatecrash some lectures but he was still hurting and not ready to forgive him so quickly. “I really don’t get why Virgil is even getting his space licence anyway, let alone for transport pilot.” 

Both John and Virgil decided to ignore that comment. Alan had grown up a lot lately but they both knew he had always viewed space as the personal domain of himself and John and was still prone to the occasional flare of jealousy that Virgil was getting space rated too, seemingly on a whim. The news of Virgil’s first trip into orbit had been greeted with a flare of temper that saw Alan rejecting all calls for a week. 

“I don’t have to take that one, although I do have a few units of my own I could do without. No, tomorrow is nutrition and physiology.” He noted the eye roll that suggested Alan wasn’t enthused with those topics either. “There’s no need to decide now, just see how you feel tomorrow, but you can’t spend all afternoon on video games , if you stay home you’ll need to get some school work done or Dad might stop you from staying over.”

Alan knew that was an empty threat. As long as he kept turning in grade cards at regular intervals and was on track to finish his diploma no later than if he had been in school then he was fairly confident their father wouldn’t even think of banning the trips to Kansas. If anything he seemed to be keen to have Alan out of town as much as possible as his overseas business trips became more frequent.

The prospect of getting to spend at least the following morning with John lifted Alan’s mood considerably and the rest of the meal passed without incident.

xoxoxox

John quietly pushed open Virgil’s door. The light spilled out, momentarily lighting up the tousle haired figure on the couch before it was blocked by John as he quickly slipped inside, leaving the door ajar behind him. He took in the piles of notes on the desk and the bucket sized mug beside them, now empty of the coffee he knew it would have contained.

“Anything I can help with?” he asked, perching on the edge of the bed that really ought to be occupied already.

Virgil spun his chair around. “No, thanks, it’s not difficult, just tedious.”

This was something John could empathise with. While they each had a different specialism and focus to their course, both had encountered topics that less than thrilled them; for Virgil freight transport law was a topic he was unable to feel enthusiastic about but it was a necessary component to his studies.

“Working through the night isn’t going to help.”

“I need to make up the time, I didn’t get much studying done earlier.”

“Alan?” John rolled his eyes in a way that suggested this was a statement rather than a question. The attitude over dinner had shown that Alan had been in a bad mood and he knew that Virgil was too soft to just put the teen in his place.

Virgil nodded then yawned, space law wasn’t a thrilling topic at the best of times and his focus was distinctly wavering. The effects of the coffee were wearing off and, much as he would like another, the coffee maker was loud and he didn’t want to risk waking the teenager currently sleeping in their living area. 

“Why didn’t you just work in here?” To John it made absolutely no sense that his brother had set up at the dining table when he had a perfectly good desk in his own room where he could have gotten on with his work in peace as he was doing now.

“Couldn't you feel how much he wants our attention? He may have been a pain in the ass but I couldn’t disappear and ignore him when he’s only just got here. I’ve got time. The exam isn’t ‘til Thursday, I can study once he’s asleep.”

“Not tonight you aren't ,” John frowned as yet another yawn escaped his sibling, “and you haven’t been ignoring him, Alan said you took him flying this morning. Have you gotten any studying done today?”

“Not enough,” Virgil groaned, casting another glance at the scribbles on permitted loads and which cargoes needed to be registered with the Space Authority prior to launch. While his study time may have taken a hit he didn’t regret taking his youngest brother flying, the pure joy Alan exhibited while in the air was a world away from the loneliness he had confessed to on the ride back from the airfield. “But at least Alan still wants to talk to me.”

“Still nothing from Scott?” John sighed. He could see how much the growing distance between his two oldest brothers was preying on Virgil’s mind; freight transport law really didn’t stand a chance. 

“Nothing worth mentioning.” He raked a hand through his hair in an action that had John raising an eyebrow. Virgil squirmed slightly under the gaze that suddenly seemed far too knowing and he was reminded that, while John might be guarded about his own emotions, that didn’t mean he wasn’t observant to the moods of others. He really didn’t want to be unloading all his concerns onto John, it was part of the unwritten code of older brothers to not burden the younger ones, but with his usual outlet and sounding board going awol being one of his issues he found himself leaning on his next in line. 

“I’m worried about him,” Virgil confided, “we used to talk all the time but now I’m lucky if I can keep him on the line for three minutes at a time and my messages go unanswered for days.” 

“Perhaps he’s just talking to Gordon more, ever since the whole WASP thing those two have been a lot closer.” 

“Maybe, but since Gordon started on the bathyscape he’s been pretty busy. That’s one of the things Alan was telling me ; Gordon used to check in with him every couple of days but since taking command and starting his course he’s really cut back on contact. I’m worried that Scott isn’t talking to any of us. There is something going on and I don’t like it; you know how he can be when something’s bothering him.”

John had never had the kind of bond with Scott that Virgil had but he knew well enough that Virgil’s instincts for these things were generally to be trusted. It was almost uncanny how Virgil was able to sense upset and tension in his brothers and more than once during his time at Harvard John had found himself on the receiving end of a well timed holo-call or care package.

“Do you think it’s Dad?” While John might not have been explicitly confided in before he certainly wasn’t stupid, he’d picked up on the tone of his brothers’ calls before the topic of the future had become verboten. Even if he hadn’t there was no ignoring that fact that Scott hadn’t been attending the scheduled group calls with their father and the ire this raised despite Jeff’s thinly veiled attempts to brush Scott’s absences off as down to unavoidable Air Force commitments. It didn’t take a genius to work out that relations between Scott and their father had become strained. 

“Could be. You know well enough that Dad still won’t even consider a plan that doesn’t have Scott as field commander, he talks like it’s a done deal and I know Scott hates that, he feels like he’s had all free will stripped away. If Dad has been getting at him again that would certainly be getting him down.” Virgil picked up his mug and tipped it back, grimacing when it only yielded a few cold and bitter drips, before setting it back down heavily. God he needed more caffeine but he wasn’t quite ready to resort to the emergency energy drink stashed in his desk and he had a suspicious feeling John wouldn’t let him have it anyway. He turned back to the problem in hand; now he’d started confiding in John he may as well keep going. “Thing is, that doesn’t explain why Scott has started avoiding me. I’ve been careful not to mention the whole business to him, I’ve had my head chewed off too many times and since Scott made it perfectly clear he isn’t joining we just agreed to not talk about it. No, I think there is something else going on, something more than just Dad, but he keeps shutting me out.”

“Try not to worry about Scott for now, or at least not until after Thursday. At the moment all you need to focus on is that exam.”

Virgil cast a rueful glance at the hated notes. He knew John was right, once the freight law was out of the way he could throw his energies at distant siblings a lot more freely, or at least he could until the next exam came along. The problem was, without Scott on the team, he wasn’t wholly convinced that the exam was going to mean anything. .

“Do you think we can do it? I mean really make it work. Cos with only the three of us I just can’t see how it'll be possible. Even with Scott it would be a stretch but without him…” he tailed off, unwilling to say out loud what he was really feeling, that the whole thing was a fool's errand. No amount of good intentions and determination would be enough to run the outfit successfully with just him, John and their father.

John could understand his doubts. He had plenty of them himself, none of which had been dispelled by the many calculations he had run, trying to find some tiny shred of evidence that said the dream could indeed be made reality. Looking at it logically he knew their father’s vision was an impossible fantasy but it was a fantasy he wanted to believe in. He wanted to live among the stars and the venture was nothing if not noble.

The notes on freight law lay abandoned on the desk as the brothers continued to talk through their fears, hopes and dreams, unaware that the figure in the next room wasn’t quite as asleep as they thought.

Xoxoxox

“So, what’s International Rescue?”

There was a splutter as John half choked on a spoonful of granola. Virgil set the coffee pot down on the counter and carefully schooled his features to a neutral expression before turning to face his brother.

“What was that, Al?” 

“You heard me,” the nonchalance of the original question now gone, Alan’s voice was aggressive and challenging. “International Rescue.” 

Virgil darted a look at John but found no help there, the latter was still wiping tears from his eyes having finally dislodged the clump of oats. Any hope of passing it off as nothing had been dashed by John’s unfortunate and very obvious reaction to the question. He sighed, reclaimed the coffee pot, and brought the whole jug over to the table. There was no way he was facing this conversation without caffeine and he had a feeling he was going to need more than one cup.

“You want me to get you some water?” 

John gave another cough and shook his head. “No, I’m good, thanks.”

“Are either of you going to answer me or are you just going to ignore me like Dad does?” Alan was bristling with indignation which was coming across with a brattish pout. 

“I’m not ignoring you, I just...you threw me, that all. How did you find out?” 

“I heard you two talking last night.”

Virgil poured himself a mug of coffee and quickly drained half of it, despite it still being scalding hot. The thought that this was a problem of his own making settled like a lead weight in the pit of his stomach. He tried to remember just what he and John had talked about, he knew there had been a lot both about International Rescue and the family in general, and he wondered how much Alan had overheard. “We thought you were asleep.”

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t.”

“Look, it’s not that we don’t want to tell you it’s just Dad forbade us from talking about it.” Indecision and worry played out across Virgil’s features at the prospect of defying a direct order.

“Gordon made you promise you would tell him.” John cut in, a little unhelpfully in Virgil’s opinion. “If he heard us talking last night he may as well hear the full story, now is as good a time as any.”

Alan had heard Scott’s name crop up last night but Gordon hadn’t been mentioned in relation to whatever this mysterious plan was. Discussions on Gordon had been limited to WASP and the course he was doing with CalTech from what he had heard. The knowledge that the entire family was hiding something from him, including the brother he thought he could trust the most, came as a bitter blow, resentment that had been building for some time came crashing out.

“Gordon knows too?" he clarified, not wanting to believe it. "I hate this family sometimes, I hate that I’m just some afterthought. I thought Gordon was different, I thought he cared. Guess I was wrong.” Alan could see the hurt he was causing as the words hit Virgil like a whip, but he was too angry to care., if anything it felt good to see his brother feeling the same pain that he was.

“That’s not true, Alan, ” Virgil assured him, trying to soothe some of the hurt that was bubbling out of his youngest brother. “Gordon does care, we all do.”

“Yeah, well you’ve got a funny way of showing it. I’m always the last to know everything, it’s like I’m some massive inconvenience. I might as well just pack my stuff and get out of your hair.”

Alan pushed his chair back from the table with a scrape and started grabbing the belongings he had discarded around the room over the course of his short visit, shoving them into the open duffel bag at the end of the couch. He could deal with the others knowing stuff but Gordon was different. It had hurt so much that Gordon hadn’t confided in him about WASP and now it seemed that he had been betrayed again. Gordon had made that transition into adulthood, someone worth telling stuff to, and he was still some kid to be kept in the dark. Alone. 

“Alan, please, it’s really not like that.” Virgil was after him like a shot, grabbing his brother’s arm in an attempt to halt the furious packing. The blue eyes that spun to face him contained a mix of tears and venom. 

Alan tried to pull away, embarrassed at the emotion he couldn’t control, but hearing that Gordon had been keeping secrets again had stabbed him in the heart. The hand on his arm became a full on bear hug and Alan found himself wrapped in solid muscle with no hope of escape. He struggled for a moment then stilled, giving up on his attempt to get free. 

Virgil never loosened his hold, warm and comforting, and Alan soon found himself returning the hug; he couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually been held like this and hadn’t realised how much he missed the human contact. He became vaguely aware of an extra hand on his shoulder and unburied his head enough to see that John had joined them.

“Believe me, Alan, we’ve wanted to tell you. Gordon especially made it quite clear you shouldn’t be frozen out of all this but Dad was adamant that you weren’t to be told. No matter what Dad says we were going to tell you once Virgil qualified but I think we need to bring that forward.” There was total honesty in John’s eyes as he held his brother’s gaze. 

Alan was slightly mollified that there had at least been a plan among his brothers to bring him into the loop and he could feel the sincerity in his brother's words. He was increasingly quick to anger at the injustices of being the youngest, more so now that he didn’t have Gordon around to share in the same treatment, but he knew deep down that his main antagonist was their father with his draconian rules. If their father had expressly forbidden something, rather than just choosing not to mention it, then he knew he was putting Virgil and John in an incredibly difficult position; witnessing Gordon’s defiance and their father’s reaction to it had shown that he wasn’t beyond making life intensely difficult for those who dared to disobey.

Feeling that the tension had at least partially ebbed out of his youngest brother’s body Virgil loosened his grip and sat down on the couch, inviting Alan to take the seat next to him. Ever thoughtful, John reclaimed the coffee pot and mugs from the table and set them up on the coffee table before grabbing a spare seat.

“I think it’s time we brought you up to speed. There are some big changes ahead although even we don’t know when anything is going to happen. And John’s right, Gordon isn’t to blame for this at all. We were shocked when he said you guys never got warned before the move to LA and we promised you’d never get another upheaval like that.”

“I’ve gotta move again?” As much as Alan had no great fondness for LA he also wasn’t keen on the idea of uprooting yet again, setting up goodness knows where, which sounded very much like where this conversation was headed. At least this time he wouldn’t have to worry about integrating into a new school.

“WE are going to move. I’m not sure when, but yeah, Dad’s setting up somewhere new. Once I get my space rating I’ll be moving back to LA then, a year later, when he’s finished his course, John’s going to be joining us, wherever we happen to be at the time.”

Alan looked across at John and received a slight nod of confirmation. “Yeah, I’ll be coming home too, at least until my space station is ready.”

Alan’s eyes widened.

“John, are you sure…?”

John just rolled his eyes at Virgil. “Believe me, it’s better to tell him everything than have him guessing, or worse hunting for the information himself.”

Virgil still looked unconvinced but decided to follow John’s lead. When the news had come out about Alan hacking the school administration systems he had been shocked at the youngest Tracy’s disregard for rules but John had merely shrugged and commented that he would probably have done the same. John had been more disappointed that Alan had been skipping school, the rest of the duplicitous behaviour hadn’t phased him and Virgil had received a surprising and uncomfortable insight into a shared characteristic of the two brothers currently sat with him. If John thought unanswered questions would lead to Alan seeking out the details for himself then he would much rather tell all. If their father found out this conversation was happening they would all be in serious trouble but if Alan was caught attempting to go through their father’s files, well, Virgil didn’t want to imagine the consequences of that.

“I guess you’re right, I mean the whole idea can only work if we trust each other and that means total honesty.” 

The coffee went cold as Virgil, aided by John, told Alan all he could about their father’s vision for a rescue organisation with global capabilities, the aircraft currently being designed and the supporting vehicles and equipment that would be used on site to help those in need, and of course the need to relocate to a suitable base. 

The conversation became decidedly trickier when it came to detailing the role each brother was expected to take in the organisation. Much as Virgil would have preferred to leave out the growing rift that was opening up between Scott and their father, there was no escaping the fact that the plans were not progressing smoothly. 

He reached the end and waited, unsure how Alan would react.

“So this is why you’re doing this course , so you can help get John get to his monitoring station or whatever it is?”

“Yeah, and to help take stuff up there before things go operational.” Trust Alan to latch on to the space flight parts of the whole set-up, Virgil just hoped Alan would be less jealous of him getting space rated now he knew why it was happening. Until now he had never been able to give a decent answer for his sudden change in direction away from engineering. Despite Alan trying to hide it if it meant he could escape LA and come visit, he knew his brother resented what he saw as an intrusion on the domain he viewed as his and John’s alone. “Beyond supply runs I doubt I’ll be heading into space much. Life on the comms satellite doesn’t appeal to me so I’m hoping I won’t have to do too many rotations.”

“But Scott doesn’t want in?”

“Uh huh. John and I have been trying to figure out how it could work without him because Dad is just ploughing on regardless. He’s convinced Scott’s going to just resign his commission and fall into line the moment he gives the order.”

“I think I’ll make myself scarce when that showdown happens.” Alan hadn’t often witnessed Scott and their father butt heads, those sorts of disagreements tended to happen firmly behind closed doors, but he could easily imagine the two clashing, each as stubborn and determined as the other.

“Probably wise,” replied John. “And you can't let Dad know we’ve been speaking about this or we’ll all be on the receiving end of those fireworks.”

“Don’t worry about that, that would involve Dad actually talking to me and he barely even registers that I exist.”

That earned a frown from Virgil who was suddenly even more glad that he only had a couple more months left at Tracy College. With Gordon forging a new life in WASP he’d made a solemn promise to look out for Alan but what with the demands of his course and his worries over Scott, he realised he hadn’t been paying as much attention as he should. He certainly hadn’t realised their father had gotten quite so distant and aloof with the teen again. Still, in two months time he would be back in LA where he could give his brother some proper attention. In the meantime his freight law notes were beckoning; if he failed the exam and didn’t achieve his space rating then International Rescue would be even more of an impossible pipedream.


End file.
